


One Night Is Nothing

by Deans2Muse



Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Knotting, M/M, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2014-03-24
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:56:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 84,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deans2Muse/pseuds/Deans2Muse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU Crossover set after S8 SPN & S3a TW. Dean is sent to Beacon Hills to search out a possible relic or power source to help them reverse Metatron's spell and put the angels back where they belong. While there, he runs into an acquaintance which brings back things he never wanted to face, or maybe he did. But nothing is ever simple for Winchesters and Beacon Hills has its own problems. M/M, D/D</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Late Night Guest

**Author's Note:**

> Oh, yeah, everything is unbeta'd. All my mistakes are my own. Also, didn't do quite as many re-reads and edits so there will probably be more mistakes than usual.
> 
> Disclaimer: Kripke owns all Supernatural characters. Teen Wolf characters belong to Jeff Davis. I'm only borrowing them. 
> 
> Pairing: Dean/Derek - very graphic. This is my second attempt at something like this because this muse wouldn't leave me alone. Please let me know what you think, constructively.
> 
> Overall Warnings: Rated M for swearing, graphic sexual content with alpha/omega undertones, implied forced sex of a curse/spell origin and other adult subject matter.

       Cool air ghosted lightly over his sleep warm skin as Dean nestled face down into the standard flat motel pillow. He ignored the slight stale fragrance of the pillow that was mostly disguised by the motel’s cheap detergent. His hand automatically tightened on the handle of his hunting knife held securely under the pillow as he shifted then drifted into a deeper sleep.

      Seconds later, or so it seemed, he sensed something watching him and another’s presence in the room with him. He gripped the knife tightly and waited while his exposed flesh erupted goose bumps all over from the sensation. Considering that he was only clothed in his boxers and the sheet had shifted to his ankles in his restless sleep, most of his skin pimpled up in addition to his short hair standing on end.

       He barely heard the soft shift of something’s weight to his left and spun to attack but it was fast, too fast. It jumped on top of him and pinned him to the bed before he could even fully turn. A sharp blow to his wrist knocked his knife to the floor. The creature settled on the back of his hips and what felt like a human arm pinned his shoulders down. Luckily, the position of his face on the pillow still allowed him to breathe. Warm breath ghosted over his right ear, causing instinctual shivers.

      “Why are you here?” it growled harshly in to said ear.

      “Who’s askin’?” Dean retorted in kind, not realizing that his body had already slightly, unconsciously, relaxed as he recognized the creature’s voice.

      “You know very well who’s askin’,” it grumbled ungraciously. “Dean.” Dean gave a slight snort of amusement, only to have it apply more pressure to his shoulders. “Why. Are. You. Here?”

      “Christ,” Dean huffed out irritably. “Don’t be such a sour wolf. Let me up.”

      “As soon as you answer the question,” it conceded tensely.

      “Well, I was thinking about a little sumthin’ sumthin’ but, considering your mood,” Dean flirted playfully then trailed off, panting slightly. He was having a harder time catching his breath under the weight of it and its arm pressing down on his back. That was the only reason he was panting. Well, that, and it always pissed him off to be pinned down. Defenseless. Especially around, well, mainly by, the supernatural.

      “Don’t,” it warning bitingly, not appreciating the play, or the evasion, for that matter. It applied more pressure to his back. It needed answers and it needed them quickly.

      “Damn it!” Dean cursed irritably then sighed heavily, “Okay. Okay. But could we, at least, actually talk about this face-to-face?” After a moment of no response, he huffed again and warned begrudgingly, “Fine. At least, let up some or I will pass out on your ass.” He wasn’t lying either. The pressure not only was cutting off part of his airways and flattening his lungs, it also was hurting his previous injury from the wendigo he flamed a day ago.

      A sudden frustrated growl sounded in his ear before there was another shove against his shoulders and the arm was removed. He inhaled sharply and sagged with relief as air once again filled his lungs. He twisted slightly to look up into the eyes of his attacker. The position put additional pressure on his wound so he flipped quickly under the wolf then relaxed onto his back.

      He stared up into the wolf’s pale green eyes and took in his slightly gaunt face. Even though, the wolf’s complexion was still tan, he could see the wolf was paler than the last time he’d seen it. The dark hair and stubble only accented its pallor. Apparently, the last month and a half hadn’t been kind to the wolf. It was shirtless, showing off its perfect abs and lean body. Its jeans hung loose on its hips but Dean didn’t know if they were bought that way or weight loss had caused it so he didn’t know if there was reason for increased concern. He found that he had to ask seriously, “Should I be worried?”

      “Depends,” the wolf allowed guardedly as it leaned over its prey. Its hands landed on either side of his face as he kept eye contact with it. “Why are you here? And try not to lie this time. Wolves have a way of detecting lies.”

      “Seriously?” Dean verified with some amazement. It nodded solemnly and Dean stared hard into its eyes for a moment longer, doing his own brand of lie detecting, before he finally stuttered slightly, “I, uh, well, I, um . . . ah, hell.”

       He huffed in disgust at his pathetic school girl imitation but the lie detecting thing had seriously thrown him off. He had to confirm again hesitantly. “Seriously? Lie-detecting powers? You never mentioned that before. Why didn’t you mention that before?” It arched its eyebrows as its only response while it continued to wait.

       “Hell,” Dean exhaled harshly again, knowing deep down that it wasn’t lying. He wasn’t sure what to do now. After all, most of Dean’s repertoire was lies and evasions. Any, and every, thing but the truth. He didn’t do well with the truth, in any capacity. Considering his current position, he guessed that he had to at least try. “Fine. I, um, I just . . . just wanted to check up on you. Make sure you were okay. Alright?”

       It cocked its head to the side as it continued to study the man beneath it for honesty, using all its senses. It was hard, though, with all the information its senses were giving it. It needed more answers. “Why? Why here? Why now? When you’ve never been here before.”    

       “Read some articles recently. Seemed like a good time to check in,” Dean allowed vaguely.

       “Why? The sacrifices?” It prodded unrelentingly.

       “Among others,” he answered evasively before adding solemnly, “Like your sister.” It closed its eyes and deflated briefly in remembrance. Dean followed up firmly, “You found the killer, didn’t you? Avenged her? Before you left?”

       It quickly regained its equilibrium and nodded before returning to its previous line of questioning, “News flash, pretty boy. Took care of that over two years ago. And I know that you know that so again, why now, Dean? It was only a one-night thing, right? Over six weeks ago. Excuse me if I have some doubts about your sincerity. I’ve learned not to trust hunters, the hard way.”

       Dean exhaled heavily, “Yeah. Got that, too, from the history. Six weeks?”

       “Yeah.”

       Dean commented vaguely and blinked a couple of time, as though he had trouble assimilating that information, because he did.

       “So?” It prodded insistently.

       “Look,” he huffed irritably. “I didn’t . . . shit. Six . . .” Where the hell did the time go? Oh, yeah. Sam. Cas. The Fallen. Shit. His life was shit.

       It rolled its eyes and snapped out, “Oh, for the love of . . . It’s not like it was a thing or anything, man. It was a freakin’ one night event when we both . . . There was no reason to see each other again so stop trying to play the making-up loser boyfriend and answer the damn question because I sure as hell ain’t the girl in this.”

      “Damnit, Derek, it’s not that simple,” Dean growled irritably.

      “Never is,” Derek dismissed sarcastically. “Listen, asshat, . . .”

      “Why were you even looking for me?” Derek interrupted with a hint of menace. “Why here? Where I wasn’t to begin with?”

      “I wasn’t,” Dean snapped back. “Not initially anyway, but I hunt. You know that. Had one close by then got a call to check out this area out. Did a search. Beacon Hills came up. Then you. Your family. Recent unexplained things. And . . .”

      “And you came to hunt me,” Derek snarled angrily. “No, asshat! I came to help you,” Dean argued stubbornly. “Or, at least, see if you needed any.”

      “Help me?” Derek repeated uncomprehendingly. “How do you know . . .”

      “There’s something a lot powerful here. Others have sensed it. That’s the shit I deal with, Derek. Wolves aren’t really my specialty, except for the occasional omega roaming and killing in the cities,” Dean snapped out quickly, getting pissed off at the continual accusation.

      “And the recent wolf attacks?” Derek prodded unwaveringly.

      “Not you,” Dean insisted firmly.

      “You really believe that?” Derek verified darkly.

      “Yes,” Dean answered without hesitation. Derek paused, blinkingly, as though he was unable to comprehend Dean’s answer. Dean narrowed his eyes and prodded harshly, “What? You’re lie-detector powers on the blink? Or do they just not work with me?”

      “How can you be so sure?” Derek demanded hoarsely, ignoring Dean’s taunting accusations.

      “You’re not a killer,” he answered bluntly. “I know killers and you aren’t one.”

      “I’ve killed,” Derek admitted darkly.

      “Not innocents,” Dean argued.

      “Innocents, Dean,” Derek hissed that confirmation out harshly while his eyes flashed bright blue. “That’s why my eyes are blue and not yellow, like a typical beta.” 

      Dean stared at him a long moment, digesting that new piece of information, before he guessed accurately, “Not recently, though. And not on purpose. Everyone has their regrets, their accidents, but you are still not a killer. And you’re not responsible for what’s happening here now.”

      Derek closed his eyes briefly before he sighed regretfully, “Maybe I am.”

      “You’re not.”

      “I am, even if it’s only somewhat responsible,” Derek insisted softly.

      Dean narrowed his eyes and demanded curiously, “Why? What do you mean?”

      “Trusted the wrong person. Again,” he mumbled remorsefully. “Which brings us back to you. Vengeance is over, sacrifices are over and the remnants of the Alpha Pack are assimilated. There’s nothing here for you to hunt.” He leaned back and steeled himself then got off of Dean’s hips and the bed. “Go home, Dean.”

      Derek turned to walk out of the motel room but didn’t count on Dean rushing him. Dean slammed into his back and pressed him hard up against the wall. He automatically growled in response to the attack and the pinning. His wolf’s blue eyes flashed blue before he could push his wolf back down and calm it back down. It took all he had not to just retaliate. He actually had to fight his wolf extremely hard this time so it took him a minute to catch up to what the hunter was saying.

      “What the hell, man? Where the hell do you get off ordering me around? I’m not one of your little teenage betas, you ass. I’m a grown man who is older than your pup self and a freakin’ hunter who can totally kick your ass, if I wanted to,” Dean hissed into Derek’s ear then slowly enunciated. “I will do whatever I want, whenever I want. Got it.” He shoved hard against Derek’s shoulders with emphasis.

      Derek glared back over his shoulder at the hunter and questioned bluntly, “And what do you want, Dean? What do you want to do?”

      The sweet scent of arousal that had been lightly wafting in the air throughout their entire talk suddenly saturated the air between them. It oozed out of the hunter’s pores, even though Dean shoved him again slightly then backed away suddenly. Derek could still smell the sweet tang of arousal through the worn leather, gun oil, and sandalwood as well as something that was uniquely Dean.

      “Nothing,” Dean insisted bitterly. He also wondered what the hell he was doing here as he stalked back to the bed. “I don’t want a damn thing. Go on and get the hell out of here. We’re done.” He was damn sure that he wasn’t going back to sleep after this but it was the only logical action he could come up with besides starting a kick ass fight he knew he wouldn’t be able to win in his condition.

      “So you’re leaving then?” Derek verified curiously, trying to ignore the sinking feeling inside him, as he turned to face the hunter.

      Dean continued toward the bed with his back to Derek while he answered without concern, “Not now. Need sleep. Been a long drive. Have a lot longer drive back. And there’s no way I’m crashing my baby. Now, get your ass the hell out of my room. And, next time, don’t come in uninvited or I’ll put a silver bullet in your ass.”

      Derek stared at the hunter’s sleek, nude back, admiring the muscle tone and natural grace. He wished he could say that he was immune to Dean. He should be, especially after Kate, after Jennifer, after what happens with every hook up he’s ever had. Dean was an exception, probably because it was only for one night. Anything more and it would probably end up just as disastrous as all the others. And, all that this recent trip down memory lane did was just reminded him of what a horrible idea this would be.

      Unfortunately, the wolf inside him ignored all the memories as well as all other reason. The wolf in him relied on instinct which included responding appropriately to the signals, and pheromones, that the hunter let out in waves. The wolf in him wanted . . . really, really wanted . . . and it was stronger than him at the moment.

      Dean grunted in pain as Derek flew at and impacted his back. The motion propelled them both onto the bed but Dean twisted in the air in an attempt to get the upper hand. Or, at the very least, he turned to avoid being trapped like last time. He didn’t quite make it.

      Dean exhaled sharply as he landed on his back with Derek on top of him. All the air in his lungs knocked out of him. He blinked rapidly while he struggled to get some air back into his body. His hands automatically shoved against the wolf’s weight.

      Derek’s eyes blazed bright blue over him as Derek leaned over and hissed into his face, “You need to control your emotions better, Dean. You can deny it all you want but, even now, I can still smell, and taste, your arousal. Just like that first night.”

      “Bull-“

      Derek stopped the rest of Dean’s denying curse with his mouth. It wasn’t a kiss by any stretch of imagination. Instead, a forceful mash of their lips and teeth while Derek easily forced his tongue into Dean’s gasping mouth. One of his hands slid up and gripped Dean’s hair before pulling it forcefully, angling Dean’s mouth into a better position for deeper penetration.

      Dean tried to bite back his moan but it was hard when someone else was engaged with your teeth. And tongue. And, oh, God, it’d been so long since he’d felt, well, anything, especially this. This was so much better than the nothing he’d had inside him for so long.

      He knew he must be insane as he felt his treacherous body respond to Derek’s forceful attack, in spite of Dean’s completely rational bid to fight the wolf off of him. Only now, instead of pushing Derek off like he should, his unruly hands were now pulling the wolf closer. His arms wrapped around the wolf’s neck locking him in tighter as his weary legs relaxed then fell apart, allowing the wolf’s weight to settle between them.

      Derek felt the hunter’s response and subconscious submission so he lightened the force of his attack on Dean’s senses. He still held Dean’s hair in a tight grip but he wasn’t yanking it anymore. He kept Dean’s head correctly angled so that he could completely map out the inside of the hunter’s mouth while his other hand slowly caressed the hunter’s neck and jaw.

      Dean moaned low with hunger as Derek’s tongue carefully lapped and explored every inch of his mouth. Derek kissed as though he could do it for hours and still not be finished. The same way that Dean always kissed the women he seduced.

      Dean’s blood raced with arousal which pooled inside his groin. The lack of air increased his pulse even more and he knew he would pass out soon if Derek didn’t let up. Dean really didn’t want to be the one to break away. In his mind, they were playing a very pleasurable game of chicken and he never flinched first. Except with Cas, and their staring matches, because, hello, angel. No blinking.

      He yanked his head away abruptly, gasping for air. Thinking about Cas right now really didn’t do anything to help his situation because Cas and sex were just two things that would never go together for Dean without remembering the whore house incident. He shook his misdirected thoughts off quickly as he felt Derek’s mouth trace a path across his jaw, down his neck and around to his ear.

     Dean hissed with pleasure while he pulled hard on Derek’s hair, causing Derek to growl low in his throat and his eyes to flash again. Dean shivered slightly at Derek’s glare and wondered once again what the hell he was doing, considering, well, one, he was in bed, having sex with a guy, and, two, the guy in question was a werewolf.

     Yeah, he was seriously screwed. But hopefully only in the head. Right?


	2. Late Night Surprise

Derek lowered his head again and attacked Dean’s slightly kiss swollen lips. He nipped at the lush lower lip while Dean shifted restlessly under him. Derek tugged on Dean’s lip, causing Dean to arch up in response.  
Dean snarled slightly, unable to just lie there and take it. He arched up into the kiss and rolled his hips while he yanked at Derek’s hair in an attempt to unseat the wolf. He knew he needed to gain the upper hand in this scenario because he wasn’t anyone’s bitch and he wasn’t about to become one now. If they were going to do this, he sure as hell wasn’t going to be the bottom in this . . . whatever the hell this thing between them was.  
Derek, however, didn’t move an inch except to snarl back with flashing blue eyes. His wolf enthusiastically accepted the challenge that his bedmate unknowingly issued. He grabbed Dean’s wrists and yanked them above the hunter’s head, pinning the hunter’s hands down to the bed besides the hunter’s head.   
“Back off, dog,” Dean hissed irritably. “I don’t bottom.”  
Derek smirked with menacing humor then taunted huskily, “I didn’t ask.” His lips captured his prey’s threatening growl easily and his tongue nimbly slipped back into the hunter’s mouth to reclaim his territory. His wolf rumbled low with pleasure at the responding groan it elicited from his reluctant hunter. He opened his eyes and the tense body under him slowly relaxed into subconscious submission.  
Dean felt spellbound by the glowing blue orbs piercing into his soul. His mind flicked to instinct as he returned this dominating kiss with increasing passion because, if there was one thing he knew, it was how to kiss. It came to him so naturally, it was automatic. With his fighting mind turned off, he could only feel and what he felt was indescribable. It should be against some kind of natural order that this wolf could make him feel so much better than any woman he’d ever been with.   
His increasing desire flared hot inside him. It had been a while since he’d last let go this much. In fact, it had last been with Derek but that hadn’t been real. It’d been . . .   
A cloth ripping sounded through the silent evening which made him aware that the slight tugging at his boxers had ended. Razor sharp nails barely raked his now very bare hips. He hissed slightly at the pain but couldn’t deny his throbbing cock twitched excitedly at the aggressive behavior.  
He yanked his head away from the kiss and griped snidely, “All you had to do was ask, wolf boy. Clothes don’t grow on trees, you know.”  
“I liked this way better,” Derek rasped forcefully against Dean’s neck while he planted kisses down it. He kept Dean’s hands trapped in one of his hands against Dean’s weak attempts to free them. His other hand smoothed a path down Dean’s arm and on to his chest.   
As one of the wolf’s hands brushed over Dean’s left nipple, he let out a pleasured gasp which caused Derek’s hand to deviate from its planned course. Instead, the hand came back up and an index finger slowly circled around the now pebbled nipple while Dean shifted restlessly.   
He couldn’t remember his nipple ever being this sensitive before. He honestly didn’t know whether he wanted to arch into Derek’s fingers or away from them. Each brush of skin against it, each pass of breath against it, shot lightning bolts straight down into his groin, increasing his arousal exponentially.   
He twisted and turned indecisively which increased Derek’s fascination with that body part. Derek’s hot mouth slid over the sensitive, pert nipple and Dean instantly bucked up into the delicious warmth. Then the rough buds on Derek’s tongue brushed over and around his aroused nipple while Derek’s other hand latched onto his right nipple.  
Dean arched and wiggled under the wolf at the intense sensations, unable to lie passively. He yanked his hands free and managed to get them down to grab Derek’s hair when the damn wolf sucked at the captured nipple like a starving baby. He honestly couldn’t decide whether to yank the wolf away or pull him closer.  
With a defeated groan, Dean pulled the wolf’s mouth closer to him and arched without inhibition. His bowlegs bowed out even more then moved up to encircle the wolf who settled between them like it was the wolf’s den. Like it was meant to be.   
Normally Dean would have flinched and pulled away at that thought but there was way too many pleasurable sensations flowing through him right now to hold on to any deep thoughts. He groaned again at the nipping bite on his tender nipple and thrusted his hips up into the wolf’s jean clad groin. He growled softly at the two slightly pained pleasures but he wanted, needed, more. He wanted skin on skin contact, even though he knew he’d probably freak slightly at the feel of another man’s penis next to his.  
Even so, he snapped out huskily, “Off.” He yanked slightly on a belt loop to let the wolf know what he meant. His hand moved to unbutton the jeans in question.  
Derek lifted off of his sorely abused nipple a moment to glance into Dean’s eyes. Glowing blue meet emerald green for a moment before Derek’s hand left the nipple it had primed and Derek’s mouth took that newly tender bud into its wet heat. Derek sucked it down as deep as he could then nipped lightly at the pert tip.  
Dean groaned without knowing what caused it, whether it was again the pained pleasure or disappointment at being denied what he’d asked for. He bucked his groin up again for contact and felt Derek’s hand brush past. He felt it brush his cock again before his mind put together that Derek was actually taking off his jeans as Dean had asked.   
Derek shifted up slightly to ease his jeans down but didn’t let go of Dean’s nipple in the process. The new angle tugged the tender bud even more, causing Dean to arch up into it and he felt Dean’s cock leak against his. He shuffled his legs to help the jeans slide down and off his legs. Finally, he kicked off the hindering clothing.  
Derek reached up and grabbed Dean’s pecs firmly as his mouth once again took possession of Dean’s. Dean groaned deeply at the firm pressure on his chest combined with the heat and rough brush of Derek’s hands over his primed nipples. He swallowed around Derek’s probing tongue and arched up again. Simultaneous, Derek rolled his hips down, dead center on Dean’s cock.   
Dean instantly felt the damp, silky slide of warm, fat cock against warm, fat cock which caused his own cock to twitch, batting at Derek’s, who immediately pressed down even more firmly into Dean’s hips. He felt like he was going to orgasm already and this was barely third base. When Derek rolled his hips yet again, Dean suddenly needed way more air than he could get from Derek’s mouth. He yanked away with a gasp, “Fuck!”  
“Plan on it,” Derek promised into his ear with a husky growl before he lowered his lips back down to Dean’s chest.  
“Shit,” Dean cursed violently, bucking up into Derek’s rolling hips. He really wanted to argue, positions, if nothing else, but Derek wouldn’t let up on his onslaught. He felt more nips at his tender bud while Derek sucked and twirled each one in his mouth.   
Dean’s mind failed to form words anymore. He just gripped Derek’s hair and held on to the wolf, letting someone else take the wheel for one of the few times in his life. He vaguely wondered if Derek was always this forceful when he had sex then quickly decided that he didn’t care as long as the wolf kept it up tonight.   
He felt Derek lift up and latch onto the other nipple causing him to yank insistently on the wolf’s hair. He warned tautly, “Fuck! Enough! I’m about to cum, damn it.”  
He felt an amused chuff against the sensitive bud right before a hand slide down between his legs then a probing finger slowly circled his equally sensitive entrance. Automatically, he tried to close his legs but with the wolf between them, he only pulled him in tighter. He was too far gone to change what was going to happen now, as much as he hated to acknowledge it.   
Also, he must have zoned out at some time because there was a slick, dampness in the area and on the finger and he didn’t remember Derek lubing either of them up. He tried to remember but Derek distracted him with soothing circles around his rim muscle, relaxing him more than he’d like to admit. He finally gathered his wits and started to ask Derek about lubrication when he felt Derek’s thick finger breech him then slowly slide into him as deep as it could.   
“Shit,” he moaned softly. He felt like his inner muscles had just been parted like a hot knife through butter. Yeah, it was a weird feeling with a bit of a sting to it, reminding him vaguely of a time not too long ago. This time, however, he was a lot more aware of it. The intrusion felt strange and invasive but also sort of good in a way.  
“All ready for me, aren’t you?” Derek husked out against Dean’s mouth.   
Dean felt Derek’s finger retreat then thrust back in, forcing a groan out of him. He didn’t know why. It still felt like an invasion, only with some intense, possibly pleasurable, sensations building with each thrust. As his muscles relaxed, and he relaxed, his mind focused on the pleasure slowly growing inside him again. It quickly reminded him of the last night they had together and he knew this time would be even better.  
Derek licked and lapped at his nipple while he added another finger inside Dean and soon Dean’s hips matched the prepping thrusts of Derek’s finger. In no time at all, according to Dean’s pleasured mind, Derek was up to three fingers and his other nipple was now being laved at. Dean couldn’t stop rolling his hips to impale himself on those fingers, trying to get them deeper, but instinctively knowing he needed something else to get to deep enough inside him.  
“Derek, more,” he hissed out desperately. “Damn it. Please.” He couldn’t add anymore as he pressed his hips down again, only to groan in disappointment. Instead of the more he’d requested, he felt the wonderful fingers leave him. He started growling in frustrated impatience.  
Derek’s wolf snarled slightly in answer which Dean sensed he should cow to the larger, stronger wolf but he wasn’t that kind of person. He snarled back in response then felt Derek bite down lightly at his left nipple while simultaneously he was forcefully penetrated by what could only be Derek’s huge cock. He hissed in pain and instinctively tried to move away. “Shit!”  
Unfortunately for Dean, his aggressive behavior had set off Derek’s wolf nature and Derek’s wolf wasn’t about to let this hunter get away from him. It could smell Dean’s arousal and had inhaled it long enough that there was no way he would allow the hunter any give at all. It only understood kill, or dominate. It knew Derek didn’t want to kill anyone, especially this human, so this was its only other choice.  
The wolf’s hands grabbed Dean’s hips and yanked him down firmly onto his thick cock. The wolf was in control now so it continued to thrust and rut inside Dean until it had firmly bottomed out inside his hunter. It pinned the hunter under him and waited for the human to accept his domination. He felt the hunter totally relax under him when it paused to the onslaught so its chest rumbled lightly in appreciation of his prey’s submission.  
Dean felt like he’d initially been speared open by the wolf’s huge cock. He had tried to move his ass out of the danger zone, only to have the wolf continuously thrust inside of him. But the pain slowly subsided and it began to feel much better once Dean relaxed his muscles and stopped fighting what was happening.   
Derek stilled deep inside of him and Dean looked up into the wolf’s eyes. They stared at each other a long moment. Dean felt the throbbing cock deep inside him, where no one else had ever been, and tried to fight the emotion it brought. Starring into the wolf’s eye helped distract him until Derek finally asked softly, “Better?”  
Dean exhaled slowly then nodded. Derek’s lips meet Dean’s halfway as they kissed fiercely. Derek slowly pulled his hips back until he was just barely inside Dean then thrusted back deep inside the hunter, his hunter, as his tongue did the same to Dean’s mouth. Derek kept up the two rhythms, synchronizing them together, until Dean had to break away to breathe.  
Dean reluctantly yanked his head away, gasping for air, while Derek continued to kiss down Dean’s neck. All Dean could do was hang on for the ride. Derek once again latched onto his nipples while each deep thrust of his hips pressed Derek’s stomach down onto Dean’s own engorged cock.  
“Fuck! There. Right there. Shit!” Dean exclaimed with pleasure at the new position.   
Derek’s movement angled his cock to spear right into a spot that set off even more fireworks within Dean’s body. Between Derek sucking and nipping his tender, perky nipples, Derek’s cock plowing deep down into Dean’s deep secret spot and those toned abs pressing down and sliding up and over Dean’s cock, Dean wasn’t going to last very long. His whole body hummed with mind-numbing pleasure.  
“Shit,” he cursed hoarsely, “Fuck! Derek, I’m close.”  
Derek only sucked harder at his chest, eliciting another pleasured groan out of his hunter. He knew he couldn’t take much more then Derek increased his pace and the force of his thrusts. He was about to shot his load. He felt his balls tightening moments before it seemed, to Dean, at least, that Derek’s cock was growing even more.   
That sensation was enough to pull Dean back from the edge. There was no way he could take more cock, even if he wanted to. Derek had size to begin with and if he was getting bigger, oh, hell, no.   
“Derek,” he panted breathlessly, trying to calm the panic that threatened. “What the . . .”  
“Shit!” Derek hissed out in an incredulous pant. “Dean. Shit. I . . . Fuck!”  
Derek’s thrusts became more forceful and Dean groaned at that extra stretch which was becoming more painful with each thrust. He, they, needed to stop. Now! He couldn’t . . . “Derek. I can’t. St . . . Shit!”  
Derek’s last thrust split him in two, from his ass, right up the middle. Dean was sure of it when the searing pain speared him again from down below. He bucked up, pushed at the planted wolf while he hissed in reaction. But, his actions caused the bulbous cock inside him to rub against that oversensitive spot inside him once again.  
His first mind-blowing orgasm ripped throughout his body and babbling mouth milliseconds after his sore ass was ripped apart. He’d barely gotten his curse out when his balls pulled up painfully tight against his body and expelled everything in them all over his, and Derek’s stomachs. His sore, split ass throbbed and pulsed around the wolf’s engorged cock erupting inside him simultaneously. His entire body twitched with violent muscle spasms in response to the best orgasm that had ever gripped him while he shuddered underneath the powerful wolf.  
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Dean swore out hoarsely in a mindless litany, only vaguely aware of Derek’s echoing curses.  
Meanwhile, hot spurts of the wolf’s cum shot inside him and he shivered slightly as he felt the wolf fill him up. He could definitely feel the wolf’s cum painting his insides while he tried to get his breath and mind back together. He always thought he’d be repulsed by this, another man’s cock shooting cum inside of him. But, for some reason, with this wolf, it seemed so right. In fact, he could still feel his muscles pulsing around the extra thick cock inside of him, like his body was instinctively milking the wolf for all he was worth.  
Derek pressed up inside him more but didn’t pull out. He just kept pressing and rutting against Dean’s sore, overstuffed hole. With each movement, it rubbed against that secret pleasure spot inside Dean and in no time, Dean was rutting right back at him. He felt his limp cock slowly fill but Derek’s still hadn’t stopped spurting hot cum deep inside of Dean.  
Dean slowly reached a hand down to grab his own cock and help himself out but Derek sensed his movement and caught the hand. He firmly trapped it back against the bed above Dean’s head. Dean huffed out wearily and asked curiously, “You going to give a hand then?”  
“No,” Derek husked out against Dean’s lips. “You came untouched from just my cock inside you earlier. I want you to do it again.” Then he captured Dean’s lips in a consuming kiss while he continued his sensual attack on the very susceptible hunter.  
“Seriously?” Dean whined out incredulously when Derek finally allowed him to breathe again. Derek arched his eyebrow in response which only had Dean rolling his eyes slightly. Derek lowered his head to attack Dean’s neck and chest again.   
A few moments, Dean’s cock was hard and heavy between his legs again and Dean pushed up against Derek’s abs while pressing down onto Derek’s still thick cock. He soon realized that he had very limited range of motion because every movement away from Derek’s huge cock, pulled at his rim muscles. He frowned heavily as a very disturbing thought came to him.   
“Hey, uh, Derek?”  
“Yeah,” Derek rasped out distractedly before attacking another one of Dean’s nipples.  
Dean let out a pleasured sigh before he remembered and asked hesitantly, “I know you don’t become a real wolf and all, but do you, like, have any wolf-type parts? You know, besides the teeth and hair.”  
“Not now,” Derek evaded firmly then captured Dean’s lips in another mind-consuming kiss. The new position allowed Derek’s abs to once again rub against Dean’s heavy cock. Dean’s cum from his previous orgasm added lubrication and soon Dean flew over the edge again with Derek’s cock still cuming inside him.  
“Damn,” Dean rasped out hoarsely before wearily closing his eyes a moment. Soon as he got his breath back, he would ask Derek. Soon as he got his breath back and remembered, he would ask . . .  
“Dean,” Derek prodded with a soft husky voice. All he got in return was a soft snore, for which he was thankful. He really had no idea what had just happened so he had no answers for Dean’s questions. Maybe tomorrow he’d have some ideas.  
\------------------ SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------  
“Dean,” Derek’s sleepy, slightly irritated voice rumbled low and deep in his ear, waking Dean from a very peaceful, definitely not long enough, sleep. “Answer your phone.”   
Dean groaned unhappily as he became aware of the heavy metal rifts blaring from his cell phone. His right arm and hand flailed a couple of times at the bedside table before he finally managed to snag the current torture device assaulting his ears. He fumbled with it slightly then finally opened the line. “What?” He snapped out with weary frustration.  
“Dean,” his little brother’s voice barked out firmly with frustrated anger, even though Dean could also hear relief mixed in there too.  
“Sammy? What the hell do you want? Wait. You okay?” He growled out at first before his normal, manic concern took over again.  
“What the – Yeah, I’m fine. Perfect. Worried about you. Where the hell are you? Are you injured? Tell me where you are right now,” Sam snapped out in rapid succession.  
“What the . . . Calm down, Samantha. I’m fine,” Dean quickly assured his brother as he moved his hips to sit up, only to be stopped by a literal blinding pain in his ass. He hissed briefly before swallowing down the pain.  
“You ARE hurt,” Sam accused irately. “How bad? Where are you? And don’t lie to me.”  
“No! No, I’m not. Just made the mistake of turning on the lights with a blinding hangover,” he quickly adlibbed. He spotted Derek’s piercing eyes boring into his from over his shoulder as he continued to assure his worried brother.   
“Honestly. Only scratches on me are from this, um, lady that,” he lowered his voice slightly, “um, apparently is still here. So, um, I, uh, oh, God,” he groaned with aroused surprise then shut his mouth against the pained moan that threatened as Derek once again attacked his very sore nipples. He learned last night that Derek, or he, had some kind of nipple fetish because the wolf went out of its way to suck, tug, and pull on them to the point where they were very swollen and raw.  
He wasn’t sure what the flash in Derek’s eyes prior to this attack meant, whether Derek was upset over being called a girl, or being ignored, or jealous, or just plain bored. He also didn’t have a lot of time to contemplate it, considering the vigor of Derek’s attack and the direction of Derek’s hand which was currently stoking down his chest toward his half-hard morning wood that was becoming harder by the moment. At the rate Derek was moving on his body, he needed to get Sam off the phone quickly, for both their sanities.  
“Think you woke her up,” Dean gasped out hoarsely.  
“Seriously, Dean,” Sam griped with irritated disgust.  
“Hey, it’s not me, dude. I mean, it is me. Because I am seriously that hot but it’s not like I can turn it off,” he trailed off with a low groan because Derek’s hand enclosed his fully engorged, weeping cock and that was just plain torturous, especially since he couldn’t do anything about it while his little brother was on the phone with him. Yes, he did actually have some restraint, and morals, just not many.   
“Oh, gross,” Sam complained piously. “Look, just give me a call when you head out. Okay?”  
“Sure thing, Sammy. Might be a few hours, though,” Dean moaned hoarsely and barely moved his phone out of the way before Derek sealed his lips in a fierce kiss. He barely heard Sam’s disgusted gripe before Derek closed his phone for him.   
He didn’t care what happened to it after that, although he did hear a thud on the floor next to the bed. All he cared about was the increasingly pleasant desire coursing through his body once again. He moaned into Derek’s mouth as he wound his hands into the dark, lustrous hair of his partner, knowing he’d stopped caring early on last night that his bedmate wasn’t human or female. He vaguely wondered if he was becoming addicted to the wolf, but quickly discounted it.   
Derek’s hand pulled him down to his back on the bed and he didn’t fight it. The wolf swiftly covered him and, once again, he felt Derek enter his sore body then move deep inside of him in a rhythm that they practiced quite a lot last night. As expected, the soreness soon gave way to intense pleasure until they both came hard.


	3. Lunch Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, yeah, everything is unbeta'd. All my mistakes are my own. Also, didn't do quite as many re-reads and edits so there will probably be more mistakes than usual.
> 
> Disclaimer: Kripke owns all Supernatural characters. Teen Wolf characters belong to Jeff Davis. I'm only borrowing them. 
> 
> Pairing: Dean/Derek - very graphic. This is my second attempt at something like this because this muse wouldn't leave me alone. Please let me know what you think, constructively.
> 
> Overall Warnings: Rated M for swearing, graphic sexual content with alpha/omega undertones, implied forced sex of a curse/spell origin and other adult subject matter.

Gnawing pain eating away at his stomach made for a grumpy, barely awake Dean. He groaned low as he stretched lazily. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and immediately glanced around the room, taking in the lit area. He correctly guessed that he’d only slept a couple of hours and now it was nearing noon. 

_Yep, definitely chow time_ , he mentally acknowledged.

He yawned widely and scrubbed a hand over his face and stubble, immediately discarding the idea of shaving, then scratched at his hair briefly before he swung his hips over the side of the bed to sit upright. Luckily, either the shower, the whiskey, or the extra sleep help him heal somewhat from his evenings escapades. There was some definite pain but nothing like it had been this morning. This level of pain he could easily handle, like breathing. And, yes, he knew what that said about his life.

His stomach growled angrily again and he felt it echo throughout the empty cavern inside his body. He sighed heavily and got dressed with minimal fuss. He knew that Derek expected him to call but he didn’t do the expected. Plus, it wasn’t that kind of thing. One night didn’t mean anything. One night was nothing.

Once he had his worn jeans, hunting boots and three layers covering his torso on top, he grabbed up his wallet, keys and phone before exiting and locking up his room for the day. He’d spotted a decent looking diner at the end of the street and planned to check it out. He knew it wasn’t that far a walk but he drove anyway, not wanting to aggravate his body more than necessary. He still had a hunt to do and, with his Winchester luck, who knew what would happen between now and when he finished his meal. **_If_** he finished his meal.

As his luck would have it, he noticed a group of teens hanging out on the left side of the diner, mostly out of view, but enough that he saw them. He pulled into a parking space two slots down from the group, closer to the entrance. His phone rang at the same time he saw the first shove of what looked to be a killer fight.

“Damn it,” he cursed with resignation, throwing his baby into park and shutting off the engine. He was out of the car and ambling toward the altercation by the time he answered his phone casually. He had a bad feeling about this although he couldn’t quite figure out why.

“Dean!” Sam’s voice called out to him, obviously completely out of patience. “It’s been over three hours.”

“Got call you back, Sammy,” Dean countered distractedly. “In the middle of something right now.” 

He hung up and quickly slid his phone into his jean pocket right before he stepped dead in the middle of the two main teens charging each other again. He had a hand on each boy’s chest and growled out in a low menacing voice worthy of his drill sergeant father, “Back off, tweensters. You’re getting the wrong kind of attention here.”

Dean knew it was only surprise that allowed him to stop the two wolves from full contact. He knew what they were the minute he felt their superhuman strengths barely restrained under their clothes accompanied by their rumbling growls, which thankfully did not turn him like a certain other wolf’s did. Apparently, _very_ thankfully, Derek had managed to force all of that out of Dean’s system last night, and this morning. Last thing he needed was to pop a boner right now.

The wolf with curly brown hair and natural blue eyes was as tall as him but not as muscled. The teen was lean and lanky, reminding him slightly of Sam at that age. Of course, the wolf’s supernatural strength could have easily made things very difficult for him.

The other shorter wolf had darker, more wavy than curly hair and doe brown eyes that could easily pull someone over to his side. He was also lanky and lean but when Dean looked into his eyes, he sensed something else. This wolf was tormented and not just by normal teenage angst. It was being driven by something darker, much darker. Dark Dean was very familiar with.

Dean narrowed his eyes slightly at that and warned in an extremely low whisper that he knew the wolves present could hear, “I have a clip fully loaded with silver ammo and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Now, back the hell down and cool off, unless you want po-po here in five,” Dean advised in a more natural voice to everyone gathered around then added for the wolves, “I can drop both your asses in a lot less. Done it before.” He switched again for his audience. “I saw a guy with a phone in his hand inside, craning his neck to look this direction. I doubt any of your parents would appreciate bailing your juvie asses out of jail today so go home, go to the mall, go get your Nirvana Teen Spirit on, whatever. Just get the hell out of here,” he ended firmly, staring directly into the curly wolf’s eyes so that it knew exactly who he was talking to at the end.

Issac Lahey had no idea what the hell was going on. He didn’t know what got Scott to go all feral on him to begin with or who the hell this guy was that was threatening him. He did, however, recognize an unbreakable order when he heard it and instinctively knew this was not someone he wanted to cross. Ever.

He breathed in deeply and let out a slow relaxing breath, bringing his wolf completely back under control. He frowned slightly when he caught a scent he hadn’t smelled in months. He studied the man before him who smelled so much like Derek but not completely which made him want to call his sire to make sure Derek wasn’t dead. With that idea in mind, he turned and grabbed Allison’s hand, “Come on, Allison. Let’s go.”

Allison blinked out of her stun. She couldn’t believe that someone had actually stepped in between the two wolves out for blood. Then that same person just ordered them home, like their parent or something. Granted, he was old enough to be one of their parents, even if he was still very attractive. But there was an extremely dangerous edge to him that made her think obeying was the best option at the moment. 

“Who the hell are you?” Lydia snapped out arrogantly as she tossed her hair back over her shoulder. “And where do you get off ordering us around?”

Dean smiled charmingly while he answered innocently, “Who said anything about an order, beautiful? It was more a helpful, friendly request.” 

“Who said you were a friend?” She countered sassily.

“Enough, Lydia,” Aiden snapped sharply, grabbing her hand but meeting his twin’s gaze. They both knew this was a new hunter in the area. That made things that much worse without Lydia antagonizing him. The fact that he smelled like Derek when Derek hadn’t been seen in a few months was enough to worry him right now. 

Aiden knew that Lydia would want to go do the girl thing with Allison, considering how Scott had just came out of nowhere with all kinds of accusation against her and Issac, especially Issac. Since Issac and Allison wasn’t a new thing, Aiden wasn’t sure what was going on with the young alpha wolf but it didn’t seem like anything good. That compounded with the fact that more bodies and creatures were appearing in this once calm small town didn’t help anything.

“Ready, Issac?” Aiden asked casually. Issac nodded slightly then both wolves pulled their girlfriends away from the diner, intent on taking them back to Allison’s house where the girls at least would be safe, if the hunter decided to go after them. Aiden meet his twin’s eyes again as he turned to leave.

Ethan nodded his head in understanding, once again knowing what his twin was thinking. He and Danny had only arrived on the scene right after the hunter had stepped up into the melee. He had heard the threats but not what had caused the fight to begin with. With Lydia’s attitude flaring up, his twin needed to leave but Ethan was going to keep an eye on things for the both of them.

\------------------ SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

Meanwhile, Scott was just as confused as everyone else. First, he tried to figure out what the hell had just possessed him to go after Issac. Yeah, he was seriously still in love with Allison and hated, really, seriously **_hated_** seeing them together. But it had been like that was for a few months already. Why was he losing it now?

Secondly, this hunter was new and smelled like Derek who hadn’t been seen for a while. Did that mean Derek was dead? Was the hunter more like Gerard than Chris? If so, why stop them and act all friendly? 

_To keep them out of jail and roaming free so that he can kill you and everyone you love at his leisure_ , the dark voice deep inside him answered patronizingly. _Remember how friendly Gerard was, until they were alone. You need to kill him now. Before it’s too late._

He growled low and menacing at the hunter who arched an unconcerned eyebrow. He growled more deeply as the others walked away and the hunter moved his full attention to him. Finally, the hunter realized that he, Scott, was the one in charge here. He was the one who would kill this killer. He would rip him to shreds like paper. He would taste the iron in his blood . . .

\------------------ SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

Dean narrowed his eyes at the aggressively growling wolf, focusing his full attention on the threatening teen wolf in front of him. He smirked slightly while he pulled out his silver flask from his jacket pocket. He noticed that the wolf was watching him almost gleefully in its menace. It was waiting for an excuse.

He heard the small human next to the wolf question it with appropriate concern, “Scott? Hey, buddy? Whatcha doin’?”

Dean unscrewed the cap of the flask while he watched with amusement, somehow knowing that the wolf thought it was allowing Dean his last drink. He toasted the wolf in acknowledgement. The wolf growled deeper and crouched slightly while Dean offered snarkily, “Cheers, Cujo.”

The wolf lunged right into the holy water that Dean slashed at his face so it never saw the powerful punch that the side-stepping hunter landed point blank on its jaw. The stunned wolf fell to one of its knees while Dean cursed hotly and shook his hand out, wincing at the pain shooting through both his hand, and sore ribs. “Son of a bitch! Damn, that hurt.” Dean shook his hand again before he squatted down in front of the wolf. 

For some reason that was when everyone else snapped out of the shock and took a step toward them but Dean stopped them with one look. He then turned to assess the wolf who was shaking its head slightly. He asked quietly, “Better now?”

 “W-What?” Scott stammered in obvious shock. “Where? Wha . . . Who?”

Dean reached out and held the boy’s chin for a moment while he stared into much clearer, cleaner, doe-brown eyes. He let out a relieved sigh and commented drily, “You’re fine, Fido. Come on. Let’s go get something to eat.”

He reached out a hand to help Scott to his feet but his friend helped him first. Dean stood and waited a moment for them to get themselves together which they did. Dean used the time to gather up his now empty flask of holy water. He would have to replace it soon as he finished eating. 

“Come on, Scott,” the human friend urged softly. “Let’s get you home.”

“Not yet,” Dean argued firmly.

“What?” the human started uncomfortably. “Why not?”

“Because I’m hungry and don’t feel up to following you idiots around town at the moment,” Dean explained caustically. “I’m also not sure he’s in full control of himself yet. So if you don’t want me to put a bullet in your buddy, and his friend over there, too,” he added, pointing at Ethan,” you will humor me and get something to eat with me, even if it’s not at the same table. Clear?”

Dean stared at the amazed faces staring back at him. He rolled his eyes slightly then grumbled reluctantly, “Fine. I’ll buy. What _normal_ teen-age boy would argue with that?” He couldn’t resist the taunt, knowing if the offer of food didn’t win them over, self-preservation would.

The wolf stared at him long and hard before he finally nodded slowly and spat out, “Fine. Come on, Stiles.” He ordered the buzz cut young friend and turned to stomp back into the diner. Only then did the wolf realize it had other friends there. 

“Ethan. Danny. What are you guys doing here?” Scott wondered warily.

“We were hungry,” Danny answered blandly, not knowing what the hell was going on, which seemed to be a normal thing from him since Ethan showed up in town. Unfortunately, he really loved Ethan so he kinda had to put up with this sort of thing, he guessed. Still, it kinda sucked.

Scott glanced over at Dean who shoved the flask down inside his jacket pocket and heard Stiles answer Danny sarcastically, “Luckily for you, big daddy over there is buying for all of us. So, does that make us your kept boys, Daddy-o?”

Dean rolled his eyes and countered dryly, “You’re a real wiseass, you know that? Move it, dog bait. I ain’t getting any younger here.”

“That’s no joke,” Stiles continued automatically but started walking with the rest of his friends. “Hell, even your wrinkles have wrinkles. I think some decay is flaking off as you walk. Clear the way, people! Old dead man walking.”

Dean’s lips unconsciously twitched in amusement before he growled out warningly, “Zip it, Mouth, or I will. I know how to make sure _none_ of you is ever found by anything remotely human, or animal. Remember that.”

Scott opened the diner door and the others walked in while Stiles pointed out sarcastically, “There isn’t anything in the world that’s not human or animal.”

“I wish,” Dean muttered under his breath before he answered Stiles menacingly, “Exactly.”

All four of them turned around to stare at the hunter with wary eyes after finally catching the hint but the waitress distracted Dean before he could truly appreciate his accomplishment. He smiled charmingly at the attractive thirty-ish brunette with light green eyes as she asked politely, “How many?”

“Oh, I’m not with them, sweetheart,” he countered seductively. “I’m here, all by my lonesome. Think you can show me the way to a good meal. Maybe even a seat in the back where we could maybe get to know each other better during your break.”

She blushed prettily and smiled shyly as she gathered a menu then countered smoothly, “Right this way, sugar. Be right with you, boys.”

Dean winked at them, never letting the smile leave his face, as he followed the saucy waitress. He enjoyed the tantalizing sway of her hips all the way to his booth. He was definitely a man after all. Granted, he didn’t get even slightly aroused by it in any way, today, at least. After all, he was pretty sated in that area at the moment but he felt pretty sure that he would be turned on if he wasn’t currently so damn satisfied.

“Here you are,” she announced seductively as she motioned to the booth in the back that they now stood beside. He nodded and slid into to the seat that faced the door, wanting his back to the room. She gently touched his shoulder and continued easily, “Be right back.” She trailed her hand down his bicep as she walked away.

He watched her seat the wolves and their humans a couple of booths down from him which was fine with him. He had enough tween drama for now, and the next ten years. He pulled out his phone to call his brother back when she came back.

“What can I get you, handsome? Or do you need a few minutes?” 

He smiled widely. “Nah. I know what I want, darling. Give me a cheeseburger all the way with fries, a large Coke and a smile.”

She smiled back at him and winked as she told him, “Be back in a jiff.”

He nodded then pressed his speed dial and waited for Sam to pick up. 

“Well?” Sam snapped waspishly.

“No big. Just a little brawl outside a diner, and you know me,” Dean reported back briskly.

Sam sighed heavily, “Yeah, I know you. What’s the damage?”

“No damage,” Dean snapped slightly. “I do know how to take care of myself, you know. Did it four years before your sorry ass was born. Then did it in addition to taking care of you, too. Now, what’s with all the sudden meltdowns? Why you going all Mommie Dearest on my ass lately?”

“You know that us hunting separate never works out. This job was only supposed to take three days tops. That was five days ago. What the hell is going on, Dean?” Sam ranted irritably. “I thought it was supposed to be us two hunting together from now on.”

Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation then nodded and smiled at the waitress who set his coke down. He took a long drink before he answered caustically, “Cut the crap, Sam. You had to go research something on the Tablet with Charlie. I got a call for help while you were out. Jeb . . .” He trailed off for a moment at the nauseating memory of his remains.

“Dean?” Sam called out with concern when his brother just stopped abruptly.

He stopped for a moment to pull himself together and ran a hand over his face before he continued in a more normal tone, “I did wait but then you called saying that you had to go to that other place to get more info and Garth called back . . . I couldn’t . . . The Tablet research was more important, you know that,” he finished firmly.

There was a paused before Sam guessed correctly, “He didn’t make it.” 

Dean wasn’t about to answer that any more than he was going to think about it another second. He knew deep down that he probably killed Jeb waiting on his brother. He should have left right away but he’d made a promise. Yet another promise that he couldn’t keep. Like so many others that he didn’t, couldn’t . . . 

“Dean, he was probably already dead,” Sam consoled gently.

Dean smirked unhappily before answering sarcastically, “Yea. Sure. That’s what makes it all alright.”

“Dean.”

“Enough, Sam,” Dean ordered tautly. “Are you back now?”

“Yeah, we’re back and everything’s good. Charlie and Kevin are working with me. Crowley’s still in his dungeon. And you are headed back now,” Sam added as though him saying it made it fact when it was actually the opposite.

“Yeah, about that,” Dean started reluctantly. 

“Dean,” Sam drew out in a warning.

“What?” Dean snapped irritably, hating the guilty feeling that seemed a more permanent feature in his life than breathing. “It’s not my fault, okay? I was the only one in the area and Garth called. You really think I’d say no after . . .”

“Fine,” Sam huffed out. “When are you picking me up?”

Dean rolled his eyes and leaned his head back. “Sam, job’s in Cali. You are four states away on a good day. Why the hell would I drive all the way over there when this is only going to take a day or two?”

“Because it never takes a day or two,” Sam exploded vehemently. “Those jobs generally take a limb or two. You know that! You know our luck. You know your promise!”

Dean exhaled heavily, only to switch over to a blinding smile for his waitress who was setting his food down in front of him. “Thank you, darling.” She returned his smile before sashaying away, unfortunately Dean’s focus was already back on his brother.

“Can’t be helped, Sam, besides it’s not a real hunt. Just a look see thing for Garth. He wants me to just look into potential rumors of something possibly going on. That’s all. It’s not a hunt,” Dean insisted adamantly. 

“How can you say that? You know our life,” Sam snapped incredulously.

“Because that’s _not_ my job here, Sam,” Dean bit out sharply. “There’s already hunters here for that. A whole family of them.”

“What? Then why?”

“Garth just wants to make sure. Says things aren’t adding up,” Dean continued shortly. He gave a short laugh then added sardonically, “Said his dead great aunt, twice removed, or some shit, had a conversation about it the night before he called me. Woke him up and nagged at him for over three hours before she’d let that go to move on to how ticked she is at him about the Tooth Fairy.” 

“Seriously?”

“According to him, yeah.”

“Was he drunk?”

“During the conversation or our phone call?” Dean wondered sarcastically. 

“Both.”

“Not according to him. And, honestly, he did sound sober to me,” Dean admitted reluctantly. “Besides, think of all the dead we’ve talked to. Who are we to judge? Anyway, he says he trusts the Argents but they specialize, you know? Like Elkins?” 

“Vamps?”

“No. Wolves,” Dean answered truthfully, although he really wished that he didn’t have to tell him. He really didn’t want Sam to know anything about this “hunt” at all. But he knew he had to tell him this much. He just hoped it didn’t come back to bite him in the ass, like everything else always did. 

“This is their area and they are in charge here. So I’m supposed to do a meet and greet with the head hunter,” he related with an amused scoff. “Gonna check around for a day or two then report back. Simple as pie. Ooh. Damn it. Forgot. Miss?” He called out to the waitress who signaled she’d be back.

“Why you if he trusts them?” Sam prodded with confusion.

“Think it through, Sam. What other hunters, still living, have seen half the shit we have? We have the most varied experience of anyone alive right now,” Dean explained easily.

Sam sighed heavily, “Yeah, yeah. Didn’t think of that.”

“Figured,” Dean added with fond sarcasm. “Look, my food’s getting cold. And I need pie. I’ll call you later. After the meet and greet. Deal?”

“Deal. Take care of yourself, Dean,” Sam advised firmly.

“You, too. If you’re not 100% when I come back, I’m kicking your ass, you hear me?” Dean warned tightly.

“Right back at you,” Sam sighed off and hung up.

Dean smiled slightly before putting his phone away and taking a huge bite of his burger. He moaned with delight at the wonderful explosion of taste and wished that he could just swallow it whole. He was so damn hungry. He chewed quickly and tossed a couple of French fries in his mouth before taking another long drink of Coke. He swallowed thickly and took another big bite, only to groan in disappointment as his phone rang again. 

“Damn it,” he cursed with his mouth full. He chewed even faster before trying to swallow the huge mess in his mouth. He grabbed his phone again and answered it with his mouth still half full, “’Lo?”

“Dean.”

            That one word related so much to Dean it wasn’t even funny. The world narrowed to this one momentous conversation. He immediately demanded, “Cas? What’s wrong? What . . . shit! They found you again, didn’t they? Damn it! How many?”

            He knew he was right before the ex-angel even had a chance to answer. He quickly stood up and grabbed a to-go box from the counter to dump his food in. He knew it would come to this the moment Zeke had made him kick Cas out of the bunker. He knew it as well as he knew anything in life.

            “Dean,” Cas stated firmly again in his hoarse, emotionless voice. “I . . . thank you. For everything. I know . . . I know you didn’t want to . . . just thanks. And . . . it’s _not_ your fault.”

            “Screw that, Cas,” Dean snarled angrily into the phone, hearing the defeat in the ex-angel’s voice. He wasn’t sure what he was more pissed off at, the fact that the angel had completely ignored every one of his questions or the fact that the angel had completely given up. “You’re not giving up. You hear me? You aren’t allowed to give up. You know that.”

            “There’s too many, Dean,” Cas argued weakly. “I can’t . . . I’m . . . only human.”

            “Yeah, well, welcome to the club,” Dean snapped irately. This was way too close to another conversation he’d had with a different human Cas and Dean well remembered how he had led that Cas into a death trap as well. History, or the future, or whatever wasn’t going to repeat itself.

 _Only human, my ass,_ Dean thought angrily. Hell, he hadn’t ever been able to use that excuse and his friend sure as hell couldn’t either. He had to make Cas fight this. He was so damn tired of burying friends.

            “Used to belong to a much more powerful club,” Cas retorted sarcastically before Dean could say more. 

            “Yeah, well, they are a bunch of overpower winged ass monkeys. You are so much better than them, Cas. You damn well know it,” Dean bit back acidly. 

“Now, here’s what we’re going to do. Stall for twenty minutes if you can then have them bring to these coordinates. If you can’t stall that long, no problem. Tell them that’s where the Tablet is and they bring you right to me.” 

            “Dean, no,” Cas argued firmly.

As soon as Dean finished packing up his food, he threw his money down on the table, winked at the waitress, and used his back to push the door open with his food in his hand. He figured he’d get at least half the burger eaten before he got to where he needed to set up the trap. That is, once he got Cas on board with his plan.

“You think I can’t handle it? Or did you forget that I will send a broadcast out and get every single one of them on my ass if I have to? I’ve done it before and I will do it again if you don’t agree to this,” Dean threatened assertively. “You know I will.”

Cas sighed heavily with resignation, “Yes, Dean. I know very well that you will. Stubborn fool.” 

Dean could hear a hint of reluctant fondness in the now human’s voice. He smirked with amusement as he angled into his baby and confirmed insistently, “It’s a date, right?”

“Send the coordinates, assbutt,” Cas ordered softly.

“You’re awesome,” Dean admitted happily then sent the coordinates before firing up his baby. He had a lot to do and a little time to get there. Good thing that he’d been running contingency plans for this in his mind ever since Zeke made him kick Cas out of the bunker. He blasted Nazareth’s “Hair of the Dog” through his speakers and sped out of the parking lot, already mentally listing all things he had to do within the next twenty minutes.

\------------------ SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

“Who . . .? What . . .? The . . . hell?” Stiles stammered incredulously as they huddled into their booth which was a couple of tables away from the hunter who had injected himself into their lives. 

“Shhh,” Scott snapped irritably as he tried to hear what the hunter was saying into the phone. They needed to know immediately if he was calling for reinforcements. He saw that Ethan was doing the same thing then motioned for Stiles to engage Danny in conversation so that the wolves could ease drop on the hunter’s conversation.

While Danny and Stiles talked about normal teen stuff, like school, lacrosse, and things. Ethan and Scott quickly discovered that Dean had a brother who was also a hunter but he wasn’t calling his brother in to hunt them. Dean, himself, was only here to talk to the Argents and check out things. What those things were bothered both wolves since there was no way to know what exactly that meant?

The hunter hung up and started eating, making really annoying sounds in the process. Ethan rolled his eyes while Scott frowned and mouthed, _What things?_

Ethan shrugged unknowingly. He apparently was clueless as Scott was. They both would have to get together with the other wolves later and Allison, probably, to let everyone know then investigate what they knew about this new player. Actually, they probably should wait until after he meets with Chris Argent who might know more about him.

He was about to suggest it to Ethan when he heard the hunter’s phone ring again. The hunter’s reaction instantly had both wolves on alert, even though they quickly figured out they were not in any danger. The edge to his voice and the look in his eye when he passed by their table, completely ignoring them in the process, only confirmed their assessment.

“What the hell?” Stiles snapped again, staring in shock after the hunter as he screeched out of the parking lot and sped down the highway.

“We have to follow him,” Scott insisted instantly, already heading out the door with Stiles stumbling and flailing after him. 

“What?! Why?” Stiles almost shouted with confused exasperation. “For the love of . . .”

Scott barely heard Ethan make a quick excuse then kiss Danny bye quickly before rushing out after Stiles. Only this time Danny wasn’t going to put up with it. He rushed out after them, sick and tired of being left out of the loop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think. 


	4. Surprise Houseguests

** Chapter 4 – Surprise Houseguests **

Dean shut the trunk of his baby and surveyed the front of the ramshackle Hale house. He was sure that Derek wouldn’t like this but, when he investigated it yesterday, he knew it had enough for this plan to work. Good thing that he’d made a habit out of casing places to use in case something like this happened to Cas. Or, at least, he hoped it would. 

If Derek did find out about this and did get upset over it, he reasoned that he could always go with the county owned it spiel but he really didn’t think that would matter to the wolf in question. It seemed like Derek took family as seriously as Dean did. Of course, Dean never wanted to see his family home again after what happened in it. Hopefully, Derek had similar feelings.

Why was he even thinking of this right now? It’s not like he and Derek were . . . anything. Were they? Damn it. What the hell?

He shook his head and checked his watch, only to tense up as he felt foreign eyes on him. He turned to his left and spotted the intruder who was eyeing him like a piece of meat. He sighed heavily and mumbled with enormous disgust under his breath, “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Possibly,” the new wolf stated sardonically then added with calm confusion. “You are . . . not Derek, and yet . . . you smell . . .”

“Well, you aren’t a bucket of fresh air, either, bub.” Dean interrupted pointedly before demanding, “What do you want with Derek?”

The worn middle aged wolf cocked his head to the side slightly before he hypothesized dryly, “Well, I was thinking about killing him but it seems you beat me to it, _hunter_.”

Dean shrugged nonchalantly, not giving any indication that the wolf before him had just sealed its fate, and snarked easily, “What can I say? Never liked dog much.”

“And I’ve never liked hunters, at all,” it growled furiously then charged Dean, changing forms in midair. 

Dean calmly pulled his Colt 1911 up from where his hand had grabbed for it at the first sense of something else in his area and shot the wolf in midair. The demon wolf fell to the ground hard about a foot in front of him. The bullet hole in the center of its forehead smoked and sizzled from the silver embedded within it.

Dean sighed heavily at the knowledge that he couldn’t finish this off right now because time was up. He heard rustling in the underbrush nearby and warned harshly, “Butt out, dogs. This is way out of your league. Now back off and get the hell out of here or you will be vaporized.”

He smirked slightly as a memory came unbidden to his mind and he just had to add ominously, “This foe is beyond any of you. Run!” 

He quickly readied the small bottle of holy oil in one hand and his lighter in the other then hid both things behind his back. He heard the rustle of wings and centered his entire focus on sudden appearance of his bloodied friend. Cas fell to his knees, holding his abdomen with his left hand, then looked up into Dean’s eyes with pain and apology written all over his face. Two of the fallen stood to each side of him. Two more flanked them while one stood in front of all of them. Their leader. He stepped forward, blocking Dean’s view before Dean could catalog all of his friend’s injuries. He couldn’t tell if Cas was still able to fight at all or not.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t your slutty earthbound manwhore,” it mocked sarcastically. “His sway over you caused you to fall long ago. Of course, you’d leave it with him.”

Dean rolled his eyes, putting the faraway growl firmly in the realm of his imagination because it sounded way too far away to count as real. “Seriously? First, you asshats have me doing ungodly things to and with my little brother. Now this. You guys have got to get laid or something. Projecting way too much on me and mine. Probably have more unfulfilled sexual tension than Becky, and I didn’t think that was possible.” Dean visibly shuddered.

“Oh, come now, Dean. We all know how much you enjoy the sexual facet of human life and how you will do anything with . . . well, anything,” the leader mocked casually.

“Au contraire,” Dean argued haughtily. “No way I’d ever do anything with a junkless, arrogant dickhead like you. See, even I have standards that douches like yourself could never hope meet.”

“As if I would ever . . .”

“Be asked,” Dean interrupted mockingly. “My point exactly. But so not the point. Now how about you let Cas go, and I won’t kick all your asses back the way you came,” Dean suggested cockily, knowing that he’d never get that lucky. “Much.”

The Fallen laughed arrogantly then the leader motioned negligently with his hand. One of the others moved swiftly toward Dean who struck the lighter he had hidden behind his back and lit the small bottle of holy oil in his other hand. He accurately threw the lit Motolav cocktail the advancing soldier who instantly burst into flames. It screamed in agony while the leader snarled at the others, “Get him. Disarm him.”

“ _Fuck. My. Life_ ,” he hissed in frustration at the three charging soldiers and pulled out his angel blade. He parried the first strike and threw a boot into the other soldier’s gut then took a strong punch to the ribs. He spun away from the force and kicked the other angel in the face, making it fall back to the ground. The third attacker didn’t make it to Dean as it heard Cas attack the leader so it turned to help. 

Dean managed to slice the one on the left in the shoulder before taking a slice on the side from the one on the right. He spun about and managed to hit the right one in the head with the hilt of the angel blade before he was tossed full force toward a tree. He knew it was going to suck balls when he hit considering the bruised ribs he already had from the wendigo hunt. 

The actual impact was slightly softer than he expected then he heard the low threatening growl in his ear and felt the familiar warm body behind him. He knew that growl, that smell, and, damn it, his blood so did _not_ race even faster because of it. It was the adrenalin from the fight only. That was his story and he was sticking to it.

He hissed out with angry concern, “Get the fuck out of here. Now! They’ll incinerate you!”

“What about you?” Derek countered irately and with just as much concern, not wanting to leave his new friend in this no win situation.

“I got this,” Dean insisted adamantly. “Trust me, damn it.”

“You better,” Derek warned fiercely, “Or I’ll . . . “

“Yea, yea, scram, mutt,” Dean dismissed the threat distractedly as he charged the incoming attacker. The one with the head shot was still trying to get up but the other one he slammed with the butt of the blade then flipped it around to stab it in the heart. But Cas’s cry stopped him.

“Dean, no!”

He barely missed the heart but managed to do enough damage, judging by the grace streaming out slowly. He glared over at Cas as his attacker stumbled back and growled with frustration, “Why the hell not?”

Too late, Cas’s distraction with his brother’s fate sealed theirs. The leader got the drop on Cas and now stood with the angel blade pressed to his throat. Cas’s shoulders sagged in defeat. 

“You and your stupid bleeding heart,” Dean snarled angrily. “Don’t you get that they all will kill you in a heartbeat?”

His righteous ire quickly switched to the leader who he warned tightly, “You kill him, you get nothing from me.”

The leader smirked mockingly, “You think so?”

Dean narrowed his eyes and reminded them tautly, “You do know who I am, right? You know where I’ve been? Who I’ve been with?” He saw every one of them take a moment at that pointed reminder. “Now you tell me . . .‘ _you_ think so’?”

“Fine,” the leader spat reluctantly. “Drop the blade. Now!”

Dean stared hard at the leader and Cas then surveyed the scene again, running through his options again. Apparently, he took too long as the leaders pressed the blade deeper into Cas’s neck, causing blood to run down the man’s neck. Dean glared at the sight then tossed the blade into the trees on the left of the house so that the fallen wouldn’t be able to use it against them. The leader glared at him.

Dean smirked humorlessly then taunted mockingly, “Oh, you meant drop it as in drop it on the ground? Like, right here? Well, you really didn’t specify, you know.” 

Then his face hardened and he stated in a hard voice, reminiscent of his father, “I don’t think so. No way I’d give you more weapons to use against us.”

“I don’t think you understand the gravity . . .”

“Oh, I understand gravity alright,” Dean interrupted cockily. “Probably a helluva lot better than you. Now are you coming or what?” 

With that ultimatum, he turned and stalked up the slight hill to the front step of the porch. He reached the top step and glanced back because he didn’t hear anyone following him. He spotted them rooted to their spots with shock on their faces, except for Cas who had a reluctant smirk on his. 

Dean snapped irritably, “You want the Tablet or what? I got things to do, you know. And guess what? Hunting you assholes down after this just made the top of the list.” 

The leader finally shook off his mental stun over this insignificant human who apparently refused to understand that he wasn’t in charge here. He ordered waspishly, “Get him. Stop him. He’s up to something.”

Dean heard the commands clearly and ran through the front door past the stairs then to the left down the hall and into the kitchen, only partially shutting the doors in the process. He knew he didn’t have a lot of time. He grabbed the rope tied off behind the kitchen door and moved behind it, right as it slammed open on his shoulder. He braced himself, shaking off the slight pain. He flicked his lighter open and lit it before touching it to the ring of lighter fluid he’d squirted on the floor earlier. He wrapped the end of the rope around his wrist then charged into the group from behind.

He barely managed to grab Cas around the waist before the flames ignited the gunpowder he’d forced between the rotting boards of the floor. The minor explosive weakened the already unstable foundation and the floor beneath them completely gave out under them. He swallowed down a pained groan as he felt his shoulder muscle being yanked hard at its socket. He heard the Fallen yell out as they fell, hehe, through to the basement floor underneath. 

_How’s that for gravity, asshats?_ He thought gleefully as he swung his legs and managed to get his feet onto the edge of the landing he had planned for. Suddenly, the part of the roof that the rope was attached to gave way under his and Cas’s weight. Parts of the ceiling pelted them as they fell through the floor as well.

“Son of a . . .!” he yelled out the cutoff curse as he fell then landed hard with Cas on top of him. The violent impact knocked all of the air out of his sore body and stabbing pain filled his head as his vision dimmed to tunnel vision. He knew, rather than sensed, the others’ presence near them. Cas needed to get out of the circle of holy fire that they had landed in. The circle he’d started before the others had shown up. 

He rasped out as loud as he could to Cas, “Roll.” He didn’t think he made a sound at all, even though he put all he could into it. He had to make Cas understand, before they got him again. 

He felt the heat from the fire surrounding them and knew it was going to hurt some to go through it but that was better than staying inside the circle with the very ticked off fallen. He gasped repeatedly, trying to get air, trying to roll out of the way, trying to tell Cas, trying . . . He had to . . .

A really warm, strong hand grasped his sore, pulled arm and yanked him up by it. His pained, hoarse yelp rent the silence that had filled his throbbing head as he felt his left shoulder pop the rest of the way out of its socket. He barely got the yelp out before his stomach was slammed onto a hard solid object and all the air he’d barely managed to get back into his body fled again. For a moment, his bare skin felt a searing heat while simultaneously he had the distinct impression that he was flying through the air. He really, seriously hated flying. Luckily, everything went very dark after that.

\------------------ SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

“What the hell kind of plan was that?” Derek snarled angrily at Dean as he propped the hunter against the dirty, dusty basement wall. Dean immediately sagged to the side, only then giving Derek an indication that something was seriously wrong with his friend. He growled in frustration as he immediately searched for a pulse and listened for the hunter’s heartbeat.

“Definitely Dean’s,” Cas rasped thickly before coughing as he staggered upright. He weaved slightly while he noted the wolf checking over the hunter’s injuries. He sensed that Dean would be taken care of for the few minutes he needed to make sure that the circle held, or they would all die. Luckily, he noticed that the Fallen were either unconscious or gasping for breath like Dean had.

Derek saw the dark haired human’s look and offered softly, “He’s alive. How do you know?” 

Cas nodded in acknowledgement of the information and moved as quickly as he could with his injuries around the circle, making sure there were no openings in the fire ring. He answered clinically in a low voice, knowing the wolf could hear him easily, “Because Sam would have never allowed such a suicidal plan, especially without backup, and neither could have known what condition I’d be in when they brought me here. So there was no backup. Ergo, it was Dean’s plan. I should have asked if Sam was with him but they . . .”

Derek gaped at Cas in astonishment for a moment before interrupting hotly, “Wait! Are you saying he does this sort of thing a lot?”

“Only when family or friends are threatened with ‘no-win’ type situations,” Cas responded in the brisk tone. 

Derek waited a moment for more information before prodding, “Often?”

Cas smirked slightly from across the circle then allowed honestly, “More than anyone is comfortable with. I really thought Sam was with him,” he added with a heavy sigh before looking up to the ceiling. 

He’d finished his initial check of the ring which was thankfully intact. Dean had made it wide enough to counter the debris that fell with them all. All that was left were things from the ceiling that could be used to disrupt the circle.

“What are you doing?” Derek wondered curiously, unable to stop himself. He needed to find out what was wrong with the hunter but this guy, Cas, was making him uncomfortable.

Cas didn’t pause his inspection while he answered easily, “The suppression circle my brothers are encased in will only hold if they are unable to disrupt it. It could be disrupted by any falling debris or other items. If it is disrupted, we all will be killed. So, basically, I am trying to make sure no falling debris will kill us.”

“Wonderful,” Derek mumbled sarcastically under his breath. He turned his attention back to the unconscious hunter. Dean’s pulse was slowing down from the adrenalin that the fight released. He wondered if he should lay the human down and disrobe him then he remembered about Dean’s previous injury. Yeah, he needed to lay the hunter down.

He reached for Dean’s shoulders when he heard footsteps above and cocked his head to listen. He recognized the voices. He called out to Scott, “Watch your step. The kitchen’s been remodeled. Have someone call 911.”

“No!” Cas snapped quickly then he headed back toward his friend as swiftly as he could.

“He . . .” Derek started to snap back.

“Will kick your ass and mine, too, if you get him anywhere near a hospital,” Cas finished adamantly. “Dean doesn’t do hospitals, even when he’s dying.” 

He saw Derek’s hands near the hunter’s shoulders and recommended knowingly, “It would be best to remove his outer layers then pop his shoulder back into place before he comes to. He’s an ‘ornery’ SOB when his injured. It’s best to relocate the shoulder while he’s still out. That in itself will bring him back to consciousness.”

Derek arched his eyebrows in surprised puzzlement then wondered curiously, “How do you know his shoulder is out?”

“He yelled in my ear when it pulled the first time then I heard the pop when you yanked it up to save him, and me,” Cas added solemnly. “Thank you for that.”

Derek ignored the thanks and warned caustically, “Just don’t make me regret it.”

“What the hell happened here?” Stiles squawked incredulously above them from the edge of the kitchen floor remains. “Oh, wow. Are there . . . Is that . . . ah . . . man, Scott, why did you have to drag me into this crazy, insane world of yours?”

Both Cas and Derek glanced up at the sudden appearance of the trio from the diner. Derek quickly returned his attention to Dean, concentrating on removing the hunter’s jacket first, because Cas was right. Dean wore too many layers.

Cas warned the teens, “Do not enter the circle. Do not let anything fall into the circle, either.” He watched them until they left his view then turned to help Derek with his friend.

“Stairs are to the left,” Derek offered ungraciously.

“Do we . . . we don’t . . . I mean, do we really need to go down there?” Stiles stuttered uncertainly.

“No, you don’t,” Derek snapped out irritably. “Go home. All of you.” He growled out irritably at the increasing tread of three sets of footsteps on the stairs. 

He managed to get Dean’s jacket and overshirt off with Cas’s help before the teens entered the room. He glanced over at Cas in askance then Cas motioned for them to switch places. He frowned in question.

Cas surmised succinctly, “I don’t have the strength or coordination right now to do it. I’ll hold him still while you do it.”

Derek nodded then moved into position, keeping Dean as stable as possible, until Cas was in the right spot. Once Cas had a good hold of Dean, Derek gently grasped Dean’s left bicep then worked the shoulder to get it at the appropriate angle. He glanced at Cas who nodded that he was ready as well. With a stabilizing hand on Dean’s shoulder blade, Derek yanked the arm back until it popped back into the shoulder joint.

“ARRRRRGHHH!”

Dean screamed hoarsely as loud as he could. He didn’t have any of his normal, stoic control since he’d been unconscious. He came back to reality throwing punches.

“Dean!” Cas commanded firmly, almost blocking Dean’s roundhouse punch but not quite.

Dean’s eyes flew open just in time to see Cas’s head fly to the side as his friend fell of his lap. He immediately tried to catch him but something held his other arm, only to gently let it go. He saw Derek quickly catch Cas then lean him against the wall that Dean sagged back against.

“Son of a bitch. You bunch of butchers,” Dean muttered weakly, feeling the throbbing pain flaring out from his left shoulder and up from his back, head and ribs. He knew that crap felt a hell of a lot better than he did right now. He ran a hand down his face and mumbled wryly, “Well, that didn’t go as planned.”

He felt Cas let out a slight sarcastic huff while Derek glared daggers at him and snarled angrily, “That was _the_ plan?”

            “Uh, well, not exactly,” Dean hedged uncomfortably. 

            “What the hell is going on here?” a voice from above exclaimed in shock.

            Everyone looked up into Danny’s uncertain face. Ethan gasped, “What the . . . Danny, what are you doing here?”

            “What are any of you doing here?” Derek snapped in increasing frustration.

            Dean smirked slightly at the young wolf’s increasing ire then used the distraction to turn and check, “You okay, Cas?”

            “I’m fine,” Cas replied dully with glassy eyes.

            Dean frowned heavily then grimaced in pain as he moved to get up to check his friend. 

            “Don’t move, you idiot,” Derek snarled with concern. He put a hand out to stop him but Dean’s sore shoulder was right in front of him and he didn’t want to touch that one. Too late, he realized that Dean was already hovering over Cas and there wasn’t much he could do to stop the stubborn hunter.

            “Oh, don’t be such a sour wolf,” Dean dismissed gamely, trying to hide how bad he really felt. “I’m fine. He’s not.”

            “Funny,” Derek remarked with caustic sarcasm, “Because he just said that same thing and yet you don’t believe him but want me to believe you, which I don’t. I can smell your blood, Dean, which means it’s outside of your body.”

            “Kinky, but I’m not into that kinda thing,” Dean snarked distractedly as he checked over his friend. 

            Derek glared at the teen wolves, hating that he had an audience for this emotionally charged encounter, so he pointed up to Danny and ordered tightly, “Handle that. Now.” Ethan nodded and turned to go upstairs while Scott and Stiles stepped further into the room.

            “When’s the last time you ate, Cas? ‘Cause you need to do that now, you know. You’re human. Humans have needs,” Dean lectured lightly while watching the flinches that crossed Cas’s face with each prod on Cas’s ribs. 

            “I am very aware of that, Dean, but food takes money,” Cas bit out waspishly while trying to hide the pain Dean’s examination caused.

            Dean grunted in acknowledgement before he diagnosed with relief, “Couple of broken ribs and a badly sprained wrist, but you’ll heal. Food first, though. Be right back. There’s a burger and soda in my car.” 

He stood up way too quickly because the room immediately started spinning while his head tried to split open from the inside. He staggered slightly and braced his hand against the dirt covered wall. Cas called out a warning and shifted slightly to get up but Derek stabilized him first with a hand on Dean’s good shoulder. 

“You aren’t going anywhere right now,” Derek stated firmly and he meant every word of it. He’d knock the hunter out if he even attempted to head to his car right now. Actually, he was pretty close to knocking the hunter out anyway.

“I’ll get it,” Ethan offered from above as he led Danny out of the kitchen.

“You need to sit down before you fall down,” Derek warned tightly, not liking Dean’s pallor which make his freckles stand out in stark relief. The contrast made the hardened hunter appear younger and much more fragile. The wolf inside him fought the instinct to protect the man from any threats, even from the hunter himself

“I told you, I’m fine,” Dean insisted tightly, as he tried to bring his pain, and vision, back under his stern control. He reached up a hand to knock Derek’s paw off his shoulder but ended up fumbling for it, considering he was seeing two, maybe three, of them. 

“Yeah, you’re fine, alright,” Derek mumbled sarcastically but paused as another voice sounded loud and clear inside the room.

“Well, isn’t that quaint?” the leader who had come to at Dean’s pain-filled scream  and now mocked him harshly from inside the circle. “Like I said before, anything with anything. You really have no standards.”

“Well, there’s always you,” Dean snarked firmly, shrugging off Derek’s hand, while he turned to face his current nemesis. “As I said, I draw the line at hypocritical, junkless dickheads.”

The leader sneered dismissively at Dean in order to focus on Castiel’s pale face. “I am warning you now, Castiel. If you end this and let us out now, your death will be quick.”

Derek scoffed humorlessly behind Dean, “Negotiators they aren’t.”

“That’s because all they are is animated cardboard soldiers without a hint of inspiration among them,” Dean mumbled back to him as he stepped in front of Cas to block him from their view. He wasn’t about to let these douchebags intimidate Cas into doing anything. 

“Fine,” the leader hissed then let loose with his true voice.

Cas let out a hoarse yell accompanied the others in the room as he clapped his hands over his ears. “Dean!”

“Shit,” Dean cursed hotly, covering his own ears. He ordered the wolves, “Everyone cover your ears and run.” 

He spun around to grab Cas up. He had to get him out of the room. He hoped that if they didn’t know where Cas was, they would let up on him. He leaned over to help get his friend up but Derek was already picking the cringing human up while Scott grabbed up Stiles and ran him out of the room.

“Come on,” Derek ordered Dean with a yell then headed out of the room. Derek turned to go up the stairs as Scott was doing but Dean pulled him towards the tunnels underground. They went into one of the storerooms and closed the door. A few moments later, the noise stopped and they all sighed in relief.

“What the hell was that?” Derek snapped out irritably, shaking his head in an attempt to shake off the residual ringing in his canine sensitive ears.

“His true voice,” Cas replied dully then focused a concerned look on Dean. “Is that . . .”

“Yep,” Dean interrupted briskly, “All three times. Now you know. Keep that in mind when we get you back.” 

“Dean,” Cas started solemnly, only to be cut off again.

“Not now, Cas,” Dean bit out then pointed at him for emphasis. “I’m going to get the food and make a call. You stay here and rest so that when it’s time, you’ll be ready.”

“Dean, what are you going to do?” Cas demanded hesitantly but his voice gave away the dread that filled him. 

Dean exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his hair briskly before he admitted honestly, “I don’t know, Cas. Told you. Got to make a call. Look, I’ll do my best to not kill them but, if push comes to shove . . .”

“I understand,” Cas acknowledged solemnly. 

Dean gave a quick nod then reiterated firmly, “Eat and rest. I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” With that, Dean left the room, shutting the door behind him. Only Derek was in the way since the wolf was intently following him out of the room.

Dean rolled his eyes as he turned away and headed back toward the basement room to check on his prisoners. He pulled out his phone as he went to check for a signal. He wasn’t getting good reception down here.

Suddenly he was pulled to the side and turned with a strong hand on his good shoulder. He stared into the angry wolf’s eyes. He could see a blue tint lighting the normally light green. It was definitely an interesting mixture that luckily didn’t distract him from his purpose this time. 

“What?!” Dean snapped irritably because he so did not have time for this right now. Nor did he have the patience.

Derek narrowed his eyes at Dean’s tone and question. He growled out, pointing back towards Cas’s room, “Who is he and what the hell is going on? Why are you intent on killing yourself over this . . . man?”

“Wha-what the . . . wait, wait, wait,” Dean stumbled slightly before he narrowed his eyes as he remembered some of the insults thrown around about him and Cas. He demanded incredulously, “Are you jealous or something?” 

“No,” Derek insisted firmly but sensed that he wasn’t very convincing.

Dean confirmed it seconds later as he asserted firmly, “Damn right, you aren’t. Know why? Because that doesn’t apply here. Man, I don’t know what you think is going on but I don’t do forever. With anyone. One night. That’s it. One night is nothing. Couple of repeats of one night are also nothing. Dating . . . forever . . . they aren’t in my vocabulary.”

“No shit,” Derek sneered back at him mockingly. “I can still smell _her_ on you on top of _Cas_. Hunters. Surprised you actually took a few hours to sleep beforehand, considering how much experience you apparently have.” 

Dean slammed down his emotions at the first hint of Derek’s sneering countenance, sensing the attack coming. If it still dug at him, he refused to acknowledge it. Instead, he agreed easily to drive the point home, “That’s right. Hunters don’t do ‘happily ever after’. Know why? Because we don’t have one. We all die bloody. I’m not Pack, Derek. And I’ll never be. If you can’t handle that, walk away now.”

“Walk away from what?” Derek bit out derisively. “From what you just said, there’s nothing to walk away from. Couldn’t agree more. After all, what the hell is there to miss?”

“If you feel that way, why are you still here?” Dean pointed out heatedly.

“My house,” Derek snarled irately. “My family home. I’m here until you are off my property. You already destroyed the kitchen. Need to make sure you don’t destroy any more of it with your own personal vendetta. Got a problem with that?”

“It’s not like it was in that great a’shape to begin with,” Dean automatically sassed out the flippant observation, only to redirect at Derek’s angry growl, “No, I don’t have a problem with anything.”

“Fine,” Derek answered bitingly. “We’re agreed. Now I’m going to make sure that your guests behave. You find a way to get them out of here yesterday so that we can all move on to the actual important things in our lives.” He lightly shoved Dean back and stalked away. Anger was very visible in his every step.

Dean watched the wolf’s progress with solemn eyes, only barely comforted in the knowledge that he was doing the right thing. He could feel the wolf getting attached to him, and what was worse is that Dean could feel himself getting attached as well. Considering what happened to ninety-five percent of the Winchester’s significant others, especially the ones he truly cared about, this was the only way to keep the wolf alive and Dean’s overburdened conscious clear, on this issue at least. 

_Didn’t mean that it didn’t suck balls, though_. Dean thought wryly as his head fell back lightly against the wall as he mumbled softly with weary resignation, “Fuck my damn life.”


	5. Unpleasant Surprise

He heard footsteps descending the stairway and saw Ethan and Danny heading toward the flame room with food in Danny’s hands. He moved forward until they saw him then he motioned them into the hallway rather than having them enter the room where his prisoners were. They moved to his side and he asked quietly, “Danny, it’s Danny, right?” Danny nodded so Dean continued, “Can you take that to Cas? He’s in that room and maybe stay with him to make sure he eats it.”

“Yeah. Sure,” Danny answered politely before glancing back at Ethan then heading off where Dean directed.

“What are you going to do?” Ethan wondered curiously, not liking this whole situation, whatever it was, much less the vibe this hunter was giving him.

“Gonna make a call,” Dean replied vaguely before heading down the hall toward a windowed grate that would give him a good signal. “You might want to keep Derek company and, you know, make sure they don’t escape so we don’t all die.” Dean shrugged nonchalantly before adding sardonically, “But, hey, that’s just a thought.”

Ethan frowned at the hunter and his words but headed back down to Derek to see if he could get more information out of the wolf.

Dean heard the wolf leave and knew he was as alone as he could get right now. He immediately dialed the phone and prayed it would be answered quickly. As soon as he heard her voice, he snapped out urgently, “Charlie. Know that research project I got you and Kevin working on? Not research anymore. I need everything you got and I need it now.”

“Dean, we haven’t finished it yet,” Charlie argued reluctantly.

“What do you mean?” Dean bit out with increasing anxiety since this is the only option he could think of right now. “I thought you found something. You told me  . . . what the hell . . .”

“Just chillax a minute, dude. Yes, we’ve deciphered a potential, uh, well, spell? I guess. Mostly. It seems designed to remove an angel’s grace and render it basically powerless but we aren’t sure if it’s temporary or permanent,” Charlie started to explain.

“Whatever. Works for me. Send it,” Dean interrupted tightly.

“No, wait. Listen. According to what we’ve translated, its purpose seems to be to power up an arch in time of war, as in you have to state the name of who gets the removed grace,” Charlie finished unhappily.

Dean leaned his head back and rubbed a hand over his face as he thought quickly. He verified, “It specifies an arch as the recipient?”

“Yes, as far as we can tell anyway, and since the only arches who are still alive are in the cage, and we really, really don’t want to power either one of them up, I honestly don’t think this will help you,” Charlie summed up unhappily. 

Dean thought for a moment more before he insisted firmly, “Send it to me.”

“But, Dean . . .”

“Now, Charlie!” Dean commanded firmly. “I don’t care. I’m out of options. I don’t have any other choice right now so just send it. Any unusual components?”

“Besides the ones you’ve already been collecting? Only the fact that it has to be done by an angel which you are not,” Charlie snapped back sardonically.

“I’ll have you know I am . . . adorable,” Dean snarked automatically. “Why an angel?”

“The grace has to have a transport device which means angel and an angel blade is required in the preparation,” Charlie reported clinically.

“Okay,” Dean acknowledged distractedly, already searching for potential loopholes that might work for him, before he questioned curiously, “Any progress on the other front yet?”

“No, and Kevin’s almost fried again,” she related with concern.

“And Sam?” 

“Worried about you, as usual. You really need to get your ass back here soon, Dean. Having you out there doing this crap isn’t helping anyone,” Charlie told him honestly.

“Doing my best,” Dean replied wryly, mentally acknowledging that he was only half lying this time. 

Charlie sighed with resignation then informed him, “Sending the file now. Good luck. I’m sure you’ll need it. Watch your back, Dean.”

“Right back at you,” Dean signed off and waited until he received the file and read through it at least twice before heading back to the basement room. Now he had a plan. God help him. He had a plan. And it was less sure than the kitchen one. 

He heard the leader talking to the wolves present before he even entered the room. 

“Surely even your primitive canine dominate brain can tell he’s only amusing himself with you, _wolf_. He’ll kill you in a heartbeat whenever the mood suits him,” the leader cajoled convincingly. “You mean **_NOTHING_** to him.”

“What the hell is he talking about, Derek?” Scott asked uncertainly but Derek didn’t move a muscle in response to either of them.

Dean glimpsed Derek’s profile before he stepped into the flame lit room and had to admit that the wolf had a great poker face. He honestly couldn’t tell if the leader’s words were convincing the wolf or not. Unfortunately, it was close enough to what Dean had already stated that he knew the barbs hit home.

“Or has he filled your head with lies which is all he is good for?” the leader sniped.

“Aw, that hurts,” Dean mocked with fake pain, playfully placing a hand over his heart. “It really does. In fact, I think I might need a moment. Derek?”

Derek glanced at him, stared at him a long moment then nodded and followed him out of the room then up the stairs to the kitchen level. Dean led him out of the house and to his baby’s trunk. He pulled his keys out and unlocked the trunk as he asked with quiet concern, “Are you okay?”

Derek gave him a brief emotionless stare before demanding, “What’s the plan?”

Dean mentally sighed at the evasion then focused on sorting through his supplies to gather up what he needed for the spell. He set the phone on one side of the trunk while he started picking items out, checking them against the list on his phone as he went. He inquired solemnly, “Any way I can convince you that I got this, you believe me and leave me to this?” 

He glanced at the wolf’s set face and knew the answer before Derek repeated his question exactly the way he asked it before, as if Dean hadn’t said anything before. Dean exhaled heavily and mumbled, “That’s what I thought. Figured that the others would have the same response, too. Any way you can order them away?”

“They’re not my pack,” Derek gritted out with frustration at Dean’s evasion.

“Meaning?” Dean prodded for clarification, even though he was pretty sure he knew what it meant.

“Meaning they will not follow my orders any more than you will,” Derek verified tightly.

“Yeah, well, I’m not an order kinda guy,” Dean replied flippantly, adamantly denying his heritage. 

“Neither are they. After all, they are teenagers,” Derek quipped back sardonically.

Dean grimaced, “Figured. Remember Sammy at that age.” He shuddered slightly before returning to his chore of gathering his spell supplies. 

Derek growled out once again, “What. Is. The. Plan. Dean?”

Dean ignored the brief surge of heat that flowed through him at that growl. He mentally steeled himself against that flash of desire, wondering once again what the hell was wrong with him that this wolf seemed to set him off. He continued his mission as he answered clinically, “Got a spell that might work.”

“Might?” Derek clarified incredulously.

Dean paused briefly in his search to look Derek in the eye and confirm dryly, “Yea. Might. But it’s all I got.”

“How sure are you about this?” Derek wanted to know.

“Pretty sure,” Dean snapped out nonchalantly.

“Pretty sure?”

“Yea. Pretty sure,” Dean confirmed tightly then skipped ahead to the end to the end. “Sure enough that I’m doing it with or without your help.” He paused a second before he acknowledged softly, “It’s really our only shot at a non-massacre.”

“Are they that dangerous?” Derek questioned cautiously. “What the hell are they anyway?”

“Yes, they are that dangerous, and you wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Dean admitted ironically. “But I need you to understand, if it doesn’t work, or if I tell you to, you and _your pack_ need to grab up the humans and run as fast as you can, anywhere you can, because these asshats won’t think twice about incinerating all of you.”

“Because we are helping you?”’ Derek surmised confidently.

Dean stared at him a moment and corrected abruptly, “That. And, because of what you are. To them, you are abominations and must be destroyed. Hell, to them, humans are abominations to them. They hate us all. Monsters, humans, any creatures that are not one of them. Hell, they even hate some of their brothers enough to kill them, too.” 

“Like Cas,” Derek concluded correctly.

Dean exhaled heavily and nodded as he continued collecting what he needed. “Yea, like Cas. Poor dumb SOB.” He frowned slightly as he sorted through his trunk a few more seconds then asked on a completely different subject, “Do you have bowls left in there? For, like, mixing ingredients and stuff?”

Derek blinked at the sudden change in subject before he nodded and offered, “In the kitchen. Wooden or metal?”

Dean frowned slightly at the question then checked his phone again before he answered tightly, “Don’t think it matters.”

“I’ll get it,” Derek offered emotionlessly.

“Not yet,” Dean corrected quickly as he straightened up with an angel blade in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in another. He opened the bottle and drank down a large amount of the whiskey until he had to stop and breathe. He wiped a hand over his mouth before he told the curious wolf, “You have to do something else first.” 

He huffed out a slight laugh before he mumbled under his breath, “Cas sure would get a kick out of this if he knew. He’d call it ironic, or some shit. But, since he’s not able, I need you to do this.”

“Do what?” Derek asked with a great deal of dread as Dean took another long drink of whiskey. 

Dean lowered the bottle and switched the neck of the bottle to the hand with the blade then used his free hand to pull up the picture of the sigil needed for the spell on his phone. He looked Derek in the eye and ordered firmly, “Carve this into my chest and back. They need to pretty much overlap for this to work, like a conduit. The spell has to flow through me using this.”

“You want me to cut you up?” Derek clarified incredulously. “Front and back?”

Dean could tell how uncomfortable the wolf was in this but he knew that Derek would do it if he thought it was necessary. Dean offered uncertainly, “Well, I could probably do the front myself but there’s no way for me to do the back right. Figured it would be better to do this right considering its central to the spell.”

Derek narrowed his eyes and observed confidently, “You are doing this with or without me, aren’t you?” Dean just gave him a cold, determined stare. Derek rolled his eyes slightly then asked, “How deep?”

“Deep enough to bleed for the next twenty minutes or so,” Dean guessed wryly then paused at Derek’s face. He could tell the wolf was still really uncomfortable with this request so he smirked wryly and taunted slightly, “Come on, Derek. You really think I don’t know that you’ve wanted to seriously hurt me since our little ‘talk’ in the hallway earlier and that asshat’s taunting afterward. But this is _so_ much better than a simple punch. Come on, wolf-boy. Do it. Make me bleed.”

Derek stared at him a moment, completely unmoved by the blatantly obvious provocation, before he clarified emotionlessly, “Cut that lame crap, Dean, and tell me honestly. Do you seriously think this spell is going to work?”

Dean exhaled heavily and muttered under his breath, “Stupid wolf lie-detecting powers.” Finally, he admitted reluctantly, “I honestly have no clue but I also don’t have anything else that we can try.”

“Then why don’t we just kill them?” Derek wondered curiously.

Dean winced slightly at the thought before he admitted honestly, “Because I promised Cas I’d try. This is all I have to try with.” 

He held up a hand when he saw Derek was going to protest and insisted firmly, “I really don’t know if I could get them all in time. In fact, I’m pretty sure that it would be even more suicidal than this. And, I’m not about to let any wolves in there to help me because I’m not sure what powers they still have. Normally, they could incinerate you and me from the inside out with a single touch, just one single finger. Hell, some of them could have the power to make us explode with the snap of their fingers. Even if they have a fraction of that power remaining, it’s too damn much of a risk to take. For you, or me. Especially for those damn annoying teens.”

Derek sighed heavily and glanced around a moment, debating with himself, before he conceded ungraciously, “Fine. I’ll do it but you better be right about this. Or at least tell me how to kill them in case you fail.”

“Deal,” Dean agreed easily, taking another long drag of whiskey, as he handed over the angel blade. 

“Lift up your t-shirt,” Derek ordered dryly as he accepted the blade.

Dean nodded as he grabbed the bottom of his t-shirt and pulled it up one handed then fit the bunched up bottom into his mouth to bite down on. He gripped the bottle neck tightly as the wolf grabbed up the phone and started on his back. He gritted his teeth hard and tried to control his breathing. The alcohol helped a lot.

Ten minutes later, Dean’s body was coated with sweat and his bottle was almost empty as Derek finished up the triangular sigil on his chest. The apex of the triangle started at the tip of his sternum. Dean swallowed hard and almost fell to the ground with relief from holding himself so taut when Derek announced that he was finished. Dean took another long drink of alcohol, finishing off the bottle and enjoying the numbing warmth invading a majority of his body. 

Derek stood slowly and steadied Dean with a firm hand on his good shoulder. He  lowered the hunter’s shirt and started to ask if the hunter was okay when he heard a familiar vehicle, then another one. He growled in frustration, “The troops are coming. Whatever you’re going to do, you’d better do it quick.”

Dean blinked vaguely, feeling buzzed, from the alcohol, pain, blood-loss and lack of food then inquired uncertainly, “Troops? What troops? Aren’t they already here?”

Derek scoffed with wry humor and pulled the hunter who quickly grabbed his supply bag along while explaining humorlessly, “This way, hunter. That down there in the basement is less than a half of the troops. The other half is coming now and they’ve included a few parents in the invite. And the sheriff.”

“The sheriff?” Dean exclaimed softly. “Damn it! Why?”

”Because he’s Stiles’s father,” Derek answered tightly while he took the loaded bag from Dean. “Stiles probably called him.” Derek helped the hunter up the steps and through the downstairs back to the kitchen. He propped him up against the door leading to the basement.

“Which one is Stiles again?” Dean asked lazily as he sagged against the door leading to the basement stairs. 

“Buzzcut,” Derek described distractedly as he searched through a few cabinets looking for the mixing bowl Dean’d requested. “Mouthy, sarcastic, short.”

“Oh, Mouth,” Dean connected aloud.

“Mouth?” Derek verified curiously as he pulled down a ornately carved wooden bowl and matching spoon from one of the lower cabinets. He tucked it under his arm and headed back over to Dean.

“That’s what I named him,” Dean explained nonchalantly. 

“Fitting,” Derek agreed easily then slipped an arm around Dean’s waist which Dean allowed only because he was tired and knew he needed to conserve what energy he had. He threw his good arm around Derek’s shoulders and they made their way down the stairs. They paused a moment to let go of each other and for Dean to steady himself before they entered the room. 

_Ready?_ Derek mouthed the question to Dean who nodded abruptly as he took the bag from the wolf using his good hand. 

Dean didn’t bother responding. He just stalked into the room where the leader was attempting to convince the other to release them. He quickly surveyed the scene and saw the distraction for what it was, aside from a decent bid to gain freedom. He quickly pulled out his knife and threw it at the fallen soldier furthest from him.

“Everyone around him dies. Do you really want you and your friends to be next?” the leader had just finished asking when his brother was struck.

            The injured soldier yelled out loudly with pain. He glared at Dean as did the others. He pulled out the knife with a growl and threw it back at the hunter but Dean easily dodged it, leaving Derek to catch it. 

            “What the hell?” a voice from above called down but everyone ignored it except Stiles. 

            “Still trying to figure that out,” Stiles called back tautly.

            Dean accepted the knife from the wolf with a smirk which Derek ignored. Dean stated firmly, “I’m the one you need to focus on, boys. Those pups can’t let you out because I won’t let them. See, they don’t know you at all but me, well, let’s just say they know not to mess with me. You should’ve remembered that as well.” 

            “I will rip the flesh from your body, inch by inch, as I slowly skin you,” the injured one threated menacingly as he stalked forward to the edge of the circle facing Dean. Dean obliged him and moved forward as well, silently daring it with his boldness. “I will make sure you feel each inch as it’s ripped away from your muscles then I will feed you your own insides when they fall out of you. I will keep you alive to taste every inch of them.”

            Dean heard Derek’s low growl at the beginning of the threat and put a hand out to warn him back as the rest of the insult finished. He cocked his head to the side as if he was contemplating it while he mused aloud, “ Hmmmm. In the words of a bitch I really hate, ‘Kinky. I like.’ But let’s concentrate on the important stuff right now. Save playtime for later.”

            Dean turned his back and stalked over to the old wooden table by the wall. He knew the injured one had reached for him based on the snarl that Derek let out. Dean glanced at the wolf as he set his loaded bag on the table and was thankful that it didn’t buckle.  Derek caught the hint and moved over to set the bowl on the table. 

            “Stay calm. I got this,” Dean warned under his breath.

            “Who the hell are you? And what the hell is going on here?” Sheriff Stilinski demanded as he stormed into the room. 

            “Wonderful,” Dean grumbled under his breath. He turned to size up the new arrivals. He saw the sheriff whose hand inched toward his gun and another grown-up man who was searching the room for clues and threats. The girls and wolves from earlier hurried over to their friends. 

            “No one,” Dean answered dismissively. “Absolutely no one. Something I can help you with, Sheriff?”

            The leader scoffed humorlessly, “Well, imagine that? The great Dean Winchester not willing and eager to share. Not wanting anyone to know who he is. And after all he’s done. Come on, Dean. Where’s that Winchester charm? Or did you leave that in the Pit, too? Along with your soul.”

            “Cram it with walnuts, ugly, or I’ll send you there to find out,” Dean threatened tightly, even though he knew that wasn’t where they would go.

            Another of the Fallen tried a different tactic entirely by whimpering and pleading to the newcomers, “Ppplease help us. He’s crazy. He’s going to kill us. Please help.” It swayed slightly then fell to its knees, crying.

            Dean scoffed with amazed disgust, “Wow. What did you find a wannabe actor to possess . . . because that was just . . . awful. Hell, the porn industry has better actors than you.”

            “Look, why don’t we . . .” The sheriff started as he stepped further into the room, only to pull up short at Dean’s Colt cocked and pointed at the sheriff’s head.

            “No offense,” Dean offered solemnly, “but I’m really not the caring and sharing type. I’m a little busy right now and not known to have patience on a good day. This is not a good day.”

            “When’s the last time you had a good day?” Derek snarked curiously, right behind him.

            “November 1, 1983,” Dean snapped out then ordered tightly. “Remove your hand from your gun, sheriff, and you, too, Argent, is it? Keep both hands in the air or,” he paused and trailed off as he swung the gun over to the teens, specifically Stiles then Allison. “I can get them both before either of you draw. And death really doesn’t scare me.”

            Both men seemed to mentally debate a moment before they both did as he said. Without being asked, Derek automatically wandered over to relieve the men of their guns. Dean watched for a moment before he advised, “Don’t forget the extra piece both of them carry around their ankles and Argent has at least three knives on him. Probably all silver. So watch out.”

            “How did you know?” Argent asked curiously.

            “I know hunters,” Dean replied vaguely as he watched Derek toss the weapons over by the table they were going to work at.

            “Want me to get Allison’s weapons, too,” Derek questioned as he finished patting down the elder hunter.

            Dean glanced at the teenage girl who had hatred in her eyes and guessed that there was probably history between her and Derek that he didn’t want to interrupt this so he answered wisely, “No, just bring both men over here and tie them up. If any of the kids get out of line, their parents will be the first to pay for it. Gag them while you’re at it. I already have a headache from listening to the other asshats.”

            “What about . . .” Derek started uncertainly.

            “If that happens, you know what to do,” Dean cut in quickly. He didn’t want to give anything away to the fallen if he could help it. This wasn’t the first time he took hostages just to keep everyone safe. Not that anyone ever understood when it happened.

            He turned to survey the crowd and questioned harshly, “Anyone else need to be tied up for their own good?” He watched them each glance at each other before turning mulish.

            “When are you going to let us in on what the hell is going on?” Scott demanded uneasily.

            “After,” Dean stated vaguely before turning back to the table where the trussed up sheriff and werewolf hunter now sat near. He saw that Derek had already sat out a few things and started pulling the rest of it out while he warned, “Keep an eye on them.”

            “Which ‘them’?” Derek wondered sardonically.

            Dean smirked humorlessly again, “All of them.”

            Derek turned back to the fallen and saw the leader smiling widely then demanded tightly, “What the hell are you smiling at?”

            “Just imagining your human being force feed his own intestines,” the leader answered nonchalantly. “It’s a glorious image my brother came up with.”

            Derek growled angrily while Dean only rolled his eyes and turned from the table he’d sat out everything on. He stepped up behind Derek and lightly touched the wolf’s back before letting the hand fall as he took his place beside then in front of Derek. He planted his feet slightly apart and crossed his arms over his chest, smiling widely in return.

            “Alright, Chuckles,” Dean remarked casually. “Since this seems to be a thing for you, and, oh, lefty back there who is about to get a knife in his other shoulder if he doesn’t stop trying to bring the house down on us.” The injured fallen’s attention immediately left the ceiling to focus on Dean again, along with the two others who were trying to help their brother by combining their powers.

            “That’s right, I know how you jerkoffs work,” Dean sneered slightly before resuming his smiling countenance.

            “What are you going to do, human?” Lefty sneered in return. “You might be able to injure us but you can’t kill us. ‘Only a . . .”

            “Yeah. Yeah,” Dean interrupted impatiently. “Only one of you can kill one of you. Heard that before. But tell me, Lefty. What does Zachariah say about that? Huh? Seen him lately? Or Uriel? What about Gabriel? Heard from any of them lately? Want to know why?” Dean asked with a decidedly evil smile on his face. 

            All of the prisoners stared at him nervously before the leader finally swallowed thickly then started to speak hoarsely, “No. You . . . you . . . couldn’t . . .”

            “Wanna bet, chuckles?” Dean taunted mockingly. The leader only glared back at him so Dean concluded for him, “That’s what I thought.”

He slowly paced to the front of the circle, stating casually, “So, here’s the deal. Even though, I’d love nothing more than to stab each and every one of you asshats in the face then watch as your life force bleeds out, I’ll make you a deal. Thanks to your brother there and his detailed, if disturbing, fascination with my anatomy, not to mention my complete boredom and total lack of patience at waiting on Cas to come up with something to do with you damned eternal sons of  bitches.”

“Here’s the challenge. I’ll give each of you one chance, and one chance only, to come up with any torture, or death, that hasn’t been done to me before. Lefty over there already had his shot so pick your poison, douchbags, and let’s see if you have what it takes to impress me. Now, anyone want first shot?” Dean taunted mockingly.

“Well, since you like ** _dog_** and pack so much,” the bad actor in the front sneered immediately. “I get you a hell hound pack to gang bang your ass until to your body is a mangled mass of dead bone and flesh?” 

Derek stiffened and snarled at the beginning of the insult and threat but Dean only sighed wearily and shook his head with disgust, “Do I really need to explain the rules again? It has to be something that hasn’t ever been done to me yet. Seriously, guys, I really don’t think your hearts are into this at all.”

Derek, and all the teens, turned and stared at him with disbelief which he completely ignored while injured angel countered quickly, “We’ll make it so that you can actually get pregnant and welp the demon litter then kill them all in front of you.”

Dean scoffed humorlessly, “Did you honestly just threaten to kill my ‘children’ in front of me? Is that what you were getting at? Seriously? Okay, yeah, it’s definitely rule refreshing time,” Dean announced aloud, nonplussed by the threats. “It has to be something that _hasn’t_ already been done to me.”

“You’ve never had a child,” the leader corrected firmly but with a hint of doubt.

“Haven’t I?” Dean hissed out harshly. 

“No,” the leader argued with less conviction. “Ben wasn’t yours.”

“I wasn’t talking about him, even though he’s lost as well,” Dean argued tightly. “You really should research your prey if you didn’t know that. She was mine and she was killed right in front of me, just like my mother and brother. Now, you have one last shot. Are you ready to take it or do you need a moment to confer? It’s your last chance.”

“We’ll do it to your brother then,” Lefty snapped out triumphantly.

Dean stared at him for a second before he turned to the leader and sneered lightly, “I almost feel sorry for you. Having help like that. You should really thank me after this is over.”

He turned away, calling over his shoulder, “Anyway, I’ll give you a minute to confer. Let me know when you have an actual answer.”

He felt all eyes on him as he made his way back to the table but steadfastly refused to meet Derek’s eyes at all. He knew he shouldn’t have suggested this type of game. It brought back so many things from Hell that he suppressed on a regular basis but it distracted them and would hopefully give him enough time to get the spell off. He returned to the table and pulled up the spell on his phone while he heard the fallen arguing within their prison. He focused on the spell while keeping an ear out for the fallen. 

He tossed all the spell ingredients in the mixing bowl then pulled out the angel blade and pulled up his t-shirt in the front. He felt the gagged men’s eyes on him but ignored them. He stuck himself in the apex of the triangle sigil to get his blood on the angel blade before he used it to stir the concoction with it, making sure his blood was well mixed in. He dropped his shirt down as he mixed, chanting the beginning of the spell in the process.

“Enough!” the one fallen who hadn’t said anything until now snapped out irritably, silencing the fallen around him. “Don’t you get it? There’s nothing left and he knows it.”

“What do you mean?” the leader demanded hotly.

“Think it through. Remember his history. Do you really think there’s anything left that can be done to him? Anything that hasn’t been done before? Anything that Alistair didn’t think of?” 

They all fell silent at that reminder as they turned to see Dean, ignoring them. His back was to them but they could tell something was happening. The leader snapped out the order, “Concentrate! Now!”

As all the prisoners suddenly focused on the ceiling, Derek turned toward Dean to see what had frightened them. He first saw the gagged men trying to squirm away from the table in fright before he saw that had scared them. Dean’s eyes glowed a bluish white light as he continued to repeat strange words, probably from the spell, then he drank what was in the bowl. 

The thick air within the basement felt electrified suddenly as Dean slowly straightened from the table with the strange blade in his hand. He moved like he was a robot when he walked toward the fire circle. He paused beside the wolf who struggled to not whimper and cower from the strange power radiating from him. His wolf really did not like this new development.

“What the . . .” Stiles mumbled fearfully before trailing off as he and all the other teens inched their way back away from the circle and Dean.

Dean held out the blade to the wolf who reluctantly took it, gripping the cloth surrounding the heated silver metal. Dean told him emotionlessly, like a robot, “If they break the circle, run. If they catch you, this blade is all that will kill them.”

Dean didn’t turn and look at the wolf at all. It was like something had taken over his friend but Derek could sense confusion and deep regret from somewhere deep within the hunter. How he could do this, he had no idea. And he didn’t have any time to ponder it as Dean took off his shirt then stepped directly through the fire and into the circle where the prisoners immediately tackled him and took him down to the dirt floor. 

Derek barely had time to realize that the sigil he had carved also glowed slightly before they were on him. They moved with superhuman speed and he could hear the impact of several punches as well as bones breaking. He growled, snarled and moved toward the circle, intent on saving Dean, when suddenly strong hands and arms restrained him. He struggled fiercely against them when he heard Scott’s voice in his ear.

“You can’t help him now,” Scott growled harshly in Derek’s ear. “He’s gone.”

Once again, Derek’s loud, emotional shout of fierce denial echoed through the ruined walls of the Hale house. 


	6. Not A Surprise

“Come on, Dean. Wake up!”

Dean groaned in pain as the command reverberated in his abused head and ear.  Consciousness blasted its way through the weary hunter in the form of cold water spraying his face and body. He sputtered and spewed the water that had found its way into his mouth before coughing slightly. The coughing fit wrecked his banged up ribs, causing him to bend over and clutch them for support.

“Wh-wha-“ he croaked out through his scratched up throat.

“Thank God,” Derek huffed with relief. “I’m so going to kick your ass for that.”

‘Wha?” Dean tried again before giving up. His throat hurt way too much and the room seemed to spin in front of him. He really wished he could just pass back out again but had a feeling the wolf wouldn’t take that too well.

He felt the wolf’s hands tighten around his waist where Derek was holding Dean up, below his sore ribs. Warm skin covered his back, warming him slightly in the cold spray. He sagged back against the solid strength he felt there. He actually let someone else holding him up for once.

“Dean!”

“Still here,” he rasped out barely in response to the panic in Derek’s voice. He leaned forward and caught some cold water in his mouth to try and wash away some of the dirt and pain in his throat. He winced as he swallowed but felt minimally better.

“Better be after that stunt,” Derek warned tightly. Anger radiated in his voice, even though his hands were cautious as they manhandled Dean to lean against the tiled shower wall. “Stay there while I wash you off.”

Dean sagged down the wall a little more when the strong hands released him but was able to stop himself from going down further. He leaned his head back against the cool surface and felt the wolf’s soapy hands wash away the blood and grime that he was sure had coated his body. It was soothing and a little relaxing to have someone take care of him like this but he was sure that if he had any energy at all, he’d be fighting this. 

But he was tired, so very, very tired, he thought groggily as his eyes sagged closed again.

“Damn it, Dean!” 

He heard the wolf’s frustrated curse a second before sharp pain exploded inside his injured shoulder then flamed throughout his upper left torso. He growled through gritted teeth as he tried to keep in the pain, even though the urge to scream in pain was very strong. He cursed violently while his eyes flew open to assess the threat, “Son of a bitch! You damn butcher! What the hell?” 

Derek let go of Dean’s injured shoulder as he forced the hunter to sit on the closed toilet lip. He glared at the hunter and demanded irritably, “I need you to stay awake, damn it. You almost cracked your already cracked head by passing out again. I need to take care of your injuries, get you dressed and downstairs before they lose patience and barge in on us.”

“Screw’em,” Dean retorted shortly despite his still very sore throat.

Derek squatted in front of the hunter and gripped his chin to stare Dean in the eyes as he warned firmly, “You pass out again and I will take your ass to the hospital.”

“Like hell,” Dean bit out angrily.

“Watch me,” Derek promised adamantly. “Pass out one more time and see what happens.”

“Fine,” Dean gritted out and yanked his chin away then wished he hadn’t as the room blurred around him. “Shit.”

“What?” Derek demanded with concern.

“Nothing,” Dean replied automatically, reaching up a hand to his head.

“Yea, that was believable,” Derek mumbled sarcastically as he grabbed up his jeans and t-shirt. He quickly got dressed before Dean decided to pass out on him again. He grabbed Dean’s jeans next then squatted down in front of the hunter and ordered, “Put these on.”

“I’m not a child,” Dean sulked hoarsely. He lifted his legs up as needed to help the wolf while he glanced around the room and tried to figure out what the hell had happened. Only his pounding head prevented much thought so he gave up quickly and asked uncertainly, “What the hell happened? Where are we?”

“That’s what I want to know,” Derek snarked nastily. “Stand up.” He helped the hunter stand then pulled the jeans up before Dean knocked his hands away.

“I got it,” Dean mumbled then quickly fastened his jeans, stubbornly ignoring how he swayed and probably would have fallen if the wolf hadn’t steadied him.

“As for where we are,” Derek continued without commenting on Dean’s obvious condition. “We are at Scott’s house.”

“Scott?” Dean questioned blankly before he countered quickly. “Wait, wait. We were at your house. We were there. How the hell are we at Scott’s?”

“Your friend, Cas . . .”

            “Damn it!” Dean cursed hotly, gaining strength from the adrenalin that rage lent him. “He better not . . . he didn’t . . . damn son of a bitch . . .” He trailed off as he grabbed up a towel to wrap around his bleeding ribs then yanked the bathroom door open and stormed out. “I’m gonna kill him.”

            “Dean, what the hell are you doing?” Derek called out after him.

            “Going to get me baby and kick that asshat’s powered up ass back where he came from,” Dean growled out while he stomped down the stairs to the front door. “Damn son of a bitch knows I hate that teleport shit and I _don’t_ leave Baby behind!”

            Dean heard the signaling growl behind him an instant before he was shoved against the wall by the door. Given the amazing power and speed that Derek had, Dean was shocked that it didn’t hurt him more to be shoved against the wall. He guessed that he hadn’t pissed off Derek quite enough yet but one look into the wolf’s face discounted that idea quickly.  Of course that didn’t stop Dean from glaring back at the angry wolf.

            “You aren’t going anywhere, idiot,” Derek snarled angrily. 

            “The hell I’m not,” Dean argued aggressively back. “Besides needing my car, my first aid kit is in there and I need it for this.” He motioned down to the torn stitches from his previous hunt and knew that there were other places that probably needed more. 

            “Your kit is on the table in there,” Derek gritted out tautly with a head motion to the dining room behind them. “Your car is right outside. Now stop acting like a spoiled brat and get your ass in there so I can sew you up. Again.”

            “Did you see my car?” Dean stubbornly verified.

            Derek growled slightly before he moved the curtains beside them and they both could see the black Impala resting on the curb outside. Derek arched an eyebrow at Dean who relaxed slightly. He shook off Derek’s hands then grumbled reluctantly, “Fine. But there better be food and alcohol in there or I’m out of here as soon as you’re done.”

            “Whatever,” Derek grumbled back with frustration then threw out a hand to indicate that Dean should preceded him into the room. 

            Dean walked into the room, ignoring all the others there, and spotted the bottle, burger and fries that were waiting him. “Awesome,” he exclaimed excitedly as he quickly sat down by the food, pulling the chair out so that it was sideways to the table. He leaned against the table side and quickly opened the bottle then chugged a third of it down like it was water.

            Derek squatted down beside him and unwrapped the towel bandage around Dean’s waist. He cleaned the blood sluggishly leaking from Dean’s injury then grabbed the threaded, sanitized needle but Dean stopped him briefly by asking, “Is my back bleeding?”

            Derek shifted to look before he answered briskly, “No, you’re good.” Dean nodded and sagged back against the chair back before he took another long chug of the whiskey, ignoring Derek’s warning glare. Derek clenched his jaw angrily and cautioned aloud, “If you pass out . . .”

            “Yea, yea,” Dean interrupted dismissively as he set the bottle down on the table, “I know. You’ll kick my ass. Whatever. Just get on with it so I can eat already.” Derek glared at him again before he pulled Dean’s skin together and concentrated on sewing the hunter up.

            “Oh, wait, is he really . . . are they . . . right here . . .” Stiles rambled aloud with disgusted horror to the room. “You do know there are hospitals for things like this, right?”

            Dean’s eyes snapped over to him, eager for any distraction. “What are you grumbling about, Mouth?” He growled out irritably, unable to help the wince at the pain piercing him in time with the needle. “You can leave at any time. I’m sure you know where the door is.”

            He surveyed the rest of the room and spotted the other hunter in the group then greeted briskly, “Argent, right?” The hunter gave a reserved nod. “We had a meet. Sorry to miss it but got distracted. You call Garth?”

            “No,” Argent answered honestly. “Knew something had probably come up for you to miss it. Then Allison came home and told me you were in town.” He paused for a moment before he verified solemnly, “You are Dean Winchester, right? The Dean.”

            Dean rolled his eyes slightly at that hated monomer before he huffed irritably, “Yea.” Then he mumbled to himself with aggravation, ‘ _The Dean_ ’. What the hell does that mean anyway?”

            Sheriff Stilinski took that cue to enter the conversation, ignoring the injured man’s muttering. “And which Dean Winchester would that be exactly? The one who died in St. Louis? The one who escaped custody in Maryland? Who held up a bank in Milwaukee? Who died in Monument?”

            “Oh, for crying out loud,” Dean cursed wearily. “Are you seriously going to  . . .”

            “Who went on a murder spree across five states before dying in Ankeny?”

            “Seriously?” Dean growled out irritably. “Are you really going to go through . . .”

            “These are just the highlights,” Stilinski snapped out abruptly. 

            “Like hell,” Dean argued stubbornly. “That’s the gag reel. None of that crap was real. Might as well be talking about the Broward County Mystery Spot, if you call that crap real.” Stilinski looked confused by that reference then preceded to double check his notes.

            “What was it then?” Argent asked quietly, instinctively knowing there was more to this story. 

            Dean narrowed his eyes and glanced down at Derek who glanced up and shrugged lightly then vocalized blandly, “I have no idea what he knows. I’ve been away, remember? And I’m done so eat.” He bit off the thread he’d tied off at the end of Dean’s stitches then went to work on a sling, only to be stopped by Scott who offered him an old one that was lying around the house.

            “Lot of help you are,” Dean snarked gently, ignoring the raised warm flesh around the spot that Derek breathed on. He so did not need that kind of reaction right now. Unfortunately, the fight, near-death experience, and Derek’s growling were making things uncomfortable in his jeans. He was distracted by Derek and Scott putting a sling on him so looked back at Argent.

            Argent nodded slightly and advised, “Best to answer honestly but not too detailed.” He glanced at the sheriff who was intently watching the conversation between the two hunters. “He seems to know some recently activity but not a lot.”

            “You mean, do I know my son’s best friend is a wolf and a dark druid tried to have me killed, then, yeah, I know,” Stilinski huffed out irritably. “So, no, you don’t have a reason to lie to me about this weirdo supernatural crap that shouldn’t exist.”

            “Duly noted,” Dean stated sarcastically. “So what do you want to know, specifically?”

            “Who the hell are you because all my records state you’ve been declared dead, more than once,” Stilinski clarified tightly.

            Dean took a bite out of the burger and chewed it thoughtfully. He glanced at Argent who seemed to be waiting for the same answer. He took another drink and heard a soft growl next to him. He turned and swallowed down his food before he commented dryly, “If you don’t want me to drink it, get me something else, Fido.”

            Derek growled again at the name and tone but Scott offered reluctantly, mainly because he was not willing to lose furniture over the fight brewing, “I’ll get it. Water or coke?”

            “Water,” Dean answered automatically, feeling very dehydrated after everything. Then he turned back to the other grownups and answered briefly, “St. Louis and Milwaukee were shape shifters as well as Ankeny, sort of, but . . . well, basically . . . Anyway, Monument, we, my brother and me, were reported dead by the FBI agent we helped save.”

            “Shifters again?” Argent verified.

            Dean shook his head and spat out, “Demons. Over thirty of them bastards. Barely made it out of that one. Baltimore and Folsom was us but we had to go in for the hunt. Escaped after it was done.”

            “Demons or shifters?” Derek asked.

            “No, death omen and vengeful spirit,” Dean corrected automatically. “And not applicable. Bottom line, I’m here and have a job to do.”

            “Which is what exactly?” Argent demanded aggressively with his arms across his chest.

            “I’d like to know that as well because the only thing keeping me from hauling your ass down to jail is that Argent here vouches for you,” Stilinski added briskly.

            Dean rolled his eyes at the two men. “Good luck with that, sheriff. Just keep in mind that even injured, I can hurt you in ways you don’t ever want to experience.” 

He turned to Argent and clarified caustically, “You really want to do this in front of everyone. You one of those hunters who train your kids to live this crap life?”

“No,” Argent growled in denial. “Allison got pulled into by both Scott and my sister. I didn’t want her involved this young.”

“Then you shouldn’t have been doing it,” Dean snapped out. “You kept putting her in the same vicinity so you kept her in the life, whether you want to acknowledge it or not. In any case, I’m not here to actually ‘hunt’. Garth wanted me to check in with you because something’s going on with your town that’s not wolves. I’m supposed to figure out what it is, although I have a pretty good idea.” 

He turned to look at Scott again before turning his eyes to Stiles then Allison. All of them seemed to give off a strange aura or something that he hadn’t seen before. He wanted to shake his head to clear his vision but knew that would only hurt his head more.

“What do you mean?” Argent wondered uncertainly.

“Why you?” Stilinski demanded curiously. “Why not just ask Argent?”

“Because Argent specializes in wolves and things related to that,” Dean explained patiently. 

“What do you specialize in?” Stilinski prodded.

“Demons,” Argent stated firmly while Dean just looked at him curiously. “I heard about your dad growing up. He made quite a stir in the community when he started. My father cursed about him regularly after the met once.”

Dean scoffed wryly, “Doesn’t surprise me. He was even less into caring and sharing than I am. He tended to rub people the wrong way.”

“Was it true . . .”

“Does it matter?” Dean interrupted with abrupt evasiveness. He wasn’t sure what Argent wanted to ask but, also, didn’t really care. What was past was past and he had enough do deal with in this present. “I’ve had enough of memory lane today.” 

Argent stood up straighter as he assessed the exhausted hunter who turned back to the sheriff and informed him pointedly, “I don’t exactly have a specialty, per say. Unlike Argent and others, I pretty much hunt anything that needs killing to save people’s lives. Some will say demons are the Winchesters’ thing but we really aren’t picky. They just seem to pick us, way too much for my liking.”

“Your mother,” Argent stated silently, causing Dean to cut him up with his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Dean scoffed humorlessly again, “I was four. I’m over it.”

“And your dad?” 

Dean glared at him and warned quietly, “You want to stop now.” Argent shut up and nodded solemnly.

“So you never were dead?” Stilinski verified with confusion.

Dean stared at the sheriff for a long moment, shoving his emotions back down from the memories. Then he pasted on his patented cocky smirk, “Do I look dead to you?”

“Yes,” Derek snapped out beside him.

Dean glared at him icily and growled tightly, “Shut up, mutt.”

“Dean,” Argent called out softly. 

Dean narrowed his eyes at the knowledge he saw there and avoided firmly, “Not now, Argent.”

“Has to be,” Argent argued insistently.

Dean arched his eyebrow and relented ungraciously, “Fine. Christos. Got your knife ready?” He held his arm out for the test.

Argent arched an eyebrow at the immediate cave from the stubborn human but he pulled out his silver knife and moved forward. Derek growled in warning from beside the hunter who placed his other hand on the wolf to stay him. Argent advanced and sliced the hunter’s arm with the knife but gained no reaction.

Meanwhile, Derek growled irritably, “Why are you letting him cut you up after I just sewed you back together?”

Dean gritted out against the sharp pain, “Because he has to check.”

“Check what?” Derek bit out while Dean grabbed the bloodied towel to wrap it around his cut arm. 

“That I’m still human,” Dean answered tightly before he asked Argent. “Well? Did I pass?”

“Yeah,” Argent admitted wearily. “Sorry, but . . .”

“I know,” Dean acknowledged wryly. “Not surprised it made the rounds. Hunters gossip worse than women.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles stammered in confusion. “What the hell would he be if he wasn’t human?”

Dean sighed heavily, “So not the topic. Look, we need to focus on . . .”

“He never answered, whether he died or not,” Issac observed dryly. “So, maybe . . .”

“He said he’d been, you know, . . . when we were down there and those whatever were threatening . . .” Stiles repeated vaguely as he flailed about with his hands.

“Oh, God, kill me now,” Dean prayed softly before he let his head fall down on the table.

“They said, ‘hell hounds’, Stiles,” Scott argued logically. “There’s no such thing. Right?”

Dean turned his head without lifting it up and asked Derek desperately, “Where exactly is Cas?” Sometimes the speed and range of angel air was worth all the discomfort associated with it.

“Said that you were too ‘ _loud_ ’ with the spell and he had to throw the rest of them off the trail. Whatever the hell that meant,” Derek repeated caustically.

Dean’s eyes moved slightly as he thought through the implications of that comment while in the background he heard the teens argue over the possibility of hell hounds. He didn’t like how that sounded and he’d just said a generic prayer. Crap.

“Where’s the angel blade?” Dean snapped out impatiently.

Derek shifted slightly, reaching behind his back. Stiles asked Argent to verify that hell hounds were real when the front door flew off the door frame and a slender middle aged man sauntered into the house then the living room. 

Dean ordered Derek softly the instant he heard the noise, “Get them out of here. Now!”

He sneered lightly at Dean, “You really should learn not to pray, Winchester, especially when you’re on our most wanted list.”

Dean jumped up from the chair and moved to the center of the room, accepting the blade from Derek, as he went. “True dat, but, on the other hand, you dickbags should know better than to mess with me by now, or haven’t I killed enough of you winged freaks?”

“Please,” the fallen dismissed nonchalantly. “You are alone, without your brother, your usual backup, and we both know Castiel is a non-issue. He will be dead before long as well. Then both of you can continue your unnatural relationship back in the depths of Hell where it started.”

Dean smirked cockily, holding the angel blade behind his back, “You really think your . . . man, enough to do. Well, come on, chuckles. Bring it.”

The fallen smirked then motioned with his hand and Dean flew against the wall behind him. He held in his pained groan and managed to keep the blade behind him, which was unfortunate when he felt it digging in his sore back. He glared at the fallen and admitted reluctantly, “Well, you are definitely more powered up than the rest of your douchebag brothers.”

The fallen smirked mockingly while he advanced on his prey. “You were lucky that you hit me with that fire bomb first. Of course, now, well, now, I can take my time with you until you finally give me what I want. Castiel’s head on a platter.”

“What makes you think I’d ever do that?” Dean snarled irritably.

“Because I’ll kill each and every wolf and human you have staying here right now in front of you until you do,” the fallen promised menacingly. “After all, we both know that you will take whatever torture I dish out. That’s how you held out so long before. But they . . . well, I bet they break quickly with what I have planned for them. You will watch them break apart in front of you, mentally and physically, knowing all the while that it’s all your fault that so many will and have suffered. It, all of it, was always your fault.”

“And you call yourselves ‘good’, ‘righteous’ even. No wonder your Father left all you, winged-ass monkeys,” Dean sneered angrily. He fought against his invisible bindings and felt them give slightly. He didn’t question it. He only fought harder.

The deadly punch to his bruised ribs caught him completely off guard and he screamed out as he felt his already bruised ribs cave. He felt the fallen’s hand enter his body from where his stitches ruptured again. He gasped and swallowed hard, instinctively knowing the metallic taste in his mouth was his own blood. He also knew that this fallen would lay waste to the people inside this house whether he died or not. He so couldn’t let that happened.

He growled low in his throat as he felt the being turn his hand over to grab onto his insides somewhere. He felt something pulse through him that was stronger than him, something that could save him and the others so he went with it. 

He knew he was chanting again. It was the words from the spell but it wasn’t like the last time. He didn’t have the ingredients or anything else except the words and the healing sigils that were probably opened during the strike against the wall. He didn’t care, though. It was the only chance he had as he felt more give on the hold over him.

He heard a menacing growl and knew it was Derek. The distraction allowed him to finish his movement. He felt the angel sword sink into the fallen before him as he stared into the fallen’s eyes to watch and placed his hand on the fallen’s head to steady both of them, ignoring the pain shooting through as a result of moving his injured shoulder at all. 

White hot liquid flowed up from his hand and burned through his shoulder, reminding him of before. Grace was entering his body again and needed a destination or it would rip him apart at the seams. It had almost ripped him apart before. He’d felt his body straining for cohesion, trying to keep everything inside him.

He finished the chant with Castiel’s name but the grace didn’t leave him like it was supposed to. It swirled and expanded while he coughed up more of his own blood. He couldn’t direct it. Castiel, he guessed, was at full power. In desperation, he called out another’s name instead and felt the grace surge out of him in a bid to do as it was ordered.

He sagged slightly in relief but too soon strong hands pulled him off of the body then propped him against the wall. He blearily made out Derek’s concerned face then others standing in the room. But then the room tilted and darkness descended again, for what he sincerely hoped was the last time. 


	7. Spell Surprise

** Chapter 7 – Spell Surprise **

     “This sucks ass,” Dean rasped out hoarsely before his vague, glassy eyes closed again and he was, once again, unconscious.

     “Damn it, Dean,” Derek cursed violently as he once again checked his friend for a pulse. “This near death shit is getting so damn old.”

     “You need to give him the bite or he will bleed out,” Aiden advised clinically, eyeing the gaping wound in the hunter’s left side.

     “I give him the bite and he will kill himself after he kills me,” Derek countered sardonically. “No. There’s another way. Cas!” He yelled out loudly as he’d seen Dean do.

      Seconds later, he heard the fluttering of wings and turned to spot the same dark haired, blue eyed man from before standing in the dining room doorway. Cas immediately demanded harshly, “What has he done now? Where is Dean?”

      The others moved aside to clear a path that the angel stalked down. He ignored the fallen’s lifeless vessel and squatted down in front of the hunter. He immediately placed a hand on the hunter’s gushing wound while he surmised distractedly, “One of my brothers came after him. How was he found? He should still be hidden by the sigils carved onto his ribs.” 

      He paused in his summary then demanded with dread while staring into Derek’s eyes, “Please tell me that he did not pray for this.”

      “Well, he did ask God to kill him now,” Stiles offered generously, only to have everyone cast a disbelieving stare at him before glaring. “What?” he demanded defensively. “He did.”

      “That was sarcasm, Stiles,” his father argued wearily. “Something you are extremely familiar with, by the way.”

      “My brothers do not acknowledge the difference,” Cas interrupted pointedly. “Why would Dean . . .”

      “The _children_ were arguing the possible reality of hell hounds while Dean was trying to get something done,” Derek reported caustically.

      “Hell hounds? Why would they . . .”

      “One of your brothers threatened Dean . . .”

      “Of course,” Cas interrupted dismissively. “They would bring that back up, wouldn’t they? Dean does not like them, at all.”

      “Your brothers or hell hounds?” Stiles clarified curiously.

      “Stiles,” his father ordered harshly, only to be ignored by Cas.

      Cas turned and looked directly into Stiles’s eyes to answered abruptly, “Either. Both. He hasn’t had particularly pleasant experiences with either entities.” He then turned to Derek and offered abruptly as he removed his hand, “I have healed his life-threatening injuries as well as some others but have left some so that he may not be the wiser. Luckily, he wasn’t all the way dead this time so it didn’t take as much grace as usual. He will be very tired the rest of the day from all the upsets his system has suffered.”

      “Alright,” Stilinski cut in irritably and asked the question that was on everyone’s mind. “Just what in the hell are you and your brothers?”

      Cas drew himself up to his full height and turned to stare imperviously at the inquiring hunter before he announced powerfully, “I am an angel of the Lord, as are my brothers.”

      “Get out of here,” Stiles snapped out with disbelief while Derek stated firmly, “There’s no such thing.”

      Cas turned to survey the disbelieving were that was still squatted down by his charge, watching over the hunter protectively. Cas smirked slightly as his eyes shot to Dean then back again and he observed dryly, “You two have much in common.” 

      He took in Dean’s sagged form and advised firmly, “He needs to be resting in a better position.” He touched a finger to Dean’s forehead and Dean disappeared from the room.

     “Where the hell is he?” Derek demanded lividly.

      “In the living room,” Cas answered precisely. “On the couch. Still unconscious but healing. More importantly, has he told you what spell he cast yet?”

      “No,” Derek snapped out irritably over his shoulder as he stalked into the living room to make sure that’s where Dean was. He relaxed the instant that he saw the hunter was exactly where the angel had told him. He still crossed over to the couch to be next to him and watch over him better. 

      Once there, he turned around with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He stated aggressively, “What are you really?”

      Cas sighed heavily as he entered the room with the others following behind, “I told you already. I will not prove myself at this time because the others are still in the area, especially after whatever Dean did again. I need to find out what the spell was but I’m still drawing them away. I will return shortly.”

      “Wait,” Derek ordered tautly. “Do you have any more of those blades? You know the ones that can kill them? In case, more show up.”

      “If more show up, you will be dead before you can use them,” Cas stated blandly. “You, are no match for my brothers. None of you are. The only reason Dean ‘survives’ as he does is because they need him to get to me.”

      “But if they are angels . . .” Sheriff Stilinski started to argue.

      “They are nothing close to what you humans think they are, especially in their current state of mind,” Cas spat out abruptly. “I, and very few others, see the value of the human race while the rest of my brothers see you as nothing more than mud monkeys who wear clothes and speak. Even so, I almost . . .” 

      Cas stopped abruptly then shook his head and continued in a firmer voice, “Dean helped me see that humans were worth saving, despite their natures, but my brothers . . . my brothers see _him_ as the corrupter of their little brother.”

      “How?” Derek questioned aggressively.

      Cas slowly cocked his head to the side as he studied the wolf before him. He observed vaguely, “You are angry. And worried. There is no need. Dean will be completely healed. Eventually.” Derek only glared at that non-reassuring response.

      “I think sour wolf here is more worried about your relationship with his new _boyfriend_ ,” Stiles offered gleefully.

      “Shut up, Stiles,” Derek growled angrily. His wolf eyes flashed bright blue before he could pull it back under his control. He so wasn’t in the mood to do this right now with this audience but he knew Dean wouldn’t answer him on this topic.

      “Relationship?” Cas repeated with vague confusion. “We are . . . family. Why does that concern you?”

      “It doesn’t,” Derek snapped irritably. “That’s not . . .”

      “Oh, come on, big D,” Stiles cajoled supportively, clapping a hand on the wolf’s shoulder in good camaraderie. “Your new gay love is nothing to be ashamed of. Right, Danny?”

       Before Danny could even answer, Derek growled out warningly, “Remove your hand on your own before I remove it . . . with my teeth.” Stiles quickly yanked his hand away then ran it over his hair, like he’d planned to do it all along. “Now back away while all your limbs are still attached.”

      “Wow, touchy much,” Stiles snarked under his breath. “Someone needs to get laid.”

      “Stiles!” His father hissed assertively, greatly worried about his son’s future health. He grabbed his son by the back of the neck and steered him far away from the aggravated wolf. Stiles let out a litany of “ow”s the whole way over. 

       Once they were on the other side of the room, Stilinski ordered harshly, “Stay still and be quiet!”

       Stiles opened his mouth to argue but shut it quickly in the face of his father’s glare.

       Derek growled angrily and contemplatively thought of disassembling the mouthy, sarcastic teen, despite the distance, but Cas interrupted his thoughts with the vague comment, “Dean and I do have a profound bond. But it’s not the type of bond that interferes with anything you have with Dean.”

      “That’s not what your brothers said,” Stiles argued mockingly from the far side of the room. He was rewarded with a slap across the back of his head, courtesy of his father. 

      “Seriously, Stiles?” Scott questioned with frustrated exasperation at his incorrigible friend.

      “What the hell is a profound bond?” Derek prodded irritably, completely ignoring the others.

      Cas sighed heavily then continued in a contemplative voice, “I probably shouldn’t have said that. Dean gets up . . . tight when I mention it. I believe that’s because he doesn’t know what it means. It makes him uncomfortable to have a bond with anyone, especially other men, other than his brother.”

      “I’ve noticed,” Derek muttered sarcastically under his breath before he pointed out, “You haven’t answered the question.”

      “It’s hard to explain and I need . . .” Cas paused a moment and cocked his head to the side then continued briskly, “I need to redirect my brothers again. They felt whatever it was that Dean did. Again.”

      “Blades?” Derek reminded him. 

      Cas shook his head and strode purposefully over to the couch where Dean rested. He told Derek as he leaned over to place his hand on Dean’s injured shoulder, “I will adapt the bond I have with Dean, with your permission, so that if one of my brothers tries to attack him again, I will know instantly. Do I have your permission, Derek Hale?”

       “What? How did you . . .” Derek stumbled verbally at the surprises that kept coming his way.

       “I am an angel,” Cas reminded him. “I know things. Now do I have your permission?”

       Derek paused for a moment, wondering what Stiles had to ask aloud, “Why do you need Derek’s permission if you and Dean already have a bond?”

       Cas rolled his eyes at the incorrigible human but stayed focused on the wolf, waiting patiently for an answer to his inquiry. Finally, Derek huffed irritably, “If it will keep him safe, yea, sure. Whatever.”

       Cas nodded solemnly then tightly gripped Dean’s shoulder over the spot that used to bear his hand print. Dean yelled out in pain as his shoulder burned and throbbed as a result of the grace forced and reshaped into his body. He blindly swung his good arm at his attacker, only for his fist to connect with what felt like a brick wall.

       “Dean, stop it,” Cas commanded harshly. His head barely turned at all in response to the forceful punch that landed square on his jaw. He concentrated on finishing the bond then removing his hand from his charge.

       Dean blinked to clear his mind and eyes as the pain drew away then noticed the angel leaning over him. He frowned heavily, completely confused by the situation that he woke up to, then warned in a calm, low voice, “Cas. We’ve talked about this. Personal space, dude.”

       “My apologies,” Cas answered automatically then stood and stepped away from the couch.

       Dean slowly pulled his torso up and swung his legs over to sit upright on the couch. He flinched at the pain in his hand and shoulder. He knew what caused the pain in his fist, having hit several angels before. 

       His shoulder, on the other hand, he wasn’t sure what happened to it so he glanced down and cursed slightly at what he saw, “Seriously, Cas? What the hell? Why the hell did you heal it from the last time if you were just going to replace it? That shit burns, you know. Well, maybe you don’t know, but it does. And what the hell is it with everything marking me up lately anyway?” 

       Even though, no one had really pointed it out with everything else that had been going on, Dean’s chest and neck were littered with obvious bruises. Some of them, like the one on his ribs, could be passed off as results of fights and hunting. Others were definitely made by a very different, completely opposite, type activity.

       “I don’t know, Dean,” Cas snapped out irritably. “Why don’t you tell me what else has marked you up and I will attempt to figure that out.” He saw Dean’s quick glance at Derek but ignored the obvious and continued, “I marked you again so that I can know when the next angel attacks you since you are still praying generically when you know better.”

       “Oh, for crying out loud, it was just a stupid comment,” Dean huffed out irritably. “I didn’t mean . . .”

       “You know they don’t see shades of gray,” Cas cut off abruptly. “Sending out a prayer is sending out a prayer. You know that as well. Now, while you are awake, I need to know what spell you cast to return grace to me. It’s not mine. I can sense that. So how did you do it?”

       Dean looked the angel dead in the eye then lied his ass off, “I don’t know what you are talking about.”

       In an instant, Dean was across the room, slammed against the wall there, and Cas held him up by his throat. He leaned in to Dean’s face and ordered irately, “Do not lie to me, Dean. I know you. I know your tells. And I have warned you . . . to show me some respect, especially after you have ‘powered’ me back up to full. Or do you need a repeat of that time in the alley?”

      “See,” Stiles shouted triumphantly. “That’s what they said.”

       Color fled Dean’s face at that reminder but he didn’t know what to say. If he told the truth, he knew Cas would kick his ass anyway. Hell, he would kick Sam’s or Cas’s ass if they’d even thought about pulling a stunt like this so he really couldn’t fault the angel. That didn’t mean that he would give in and admit that. He knew anger always worked for him before so that’s what he was going to go with now.

       “Get off me, you dick,” Dean snarled angrily.

       “Tell me the spell,” Cas repeated bluntly as he applied pressure to Dean’s chest, constricting his lungs. He leaned in and hissed irately right in Dean’s face, “Now, Dean. Tell. Me. The. Spell.”

        Derek was in a quandary. He really wanted to stop Cas since he was obviously hurting Dean, but he also knew that Cas wouldn’t seriously hurt Dean, considering the way ‘ _angel_ ’ seemed to care about Dean. Even so, it enraged his wolf to see Dean treated this way.

        Dean gritted his teeth and tried to hold out but he couldn’t breathe. Finally, he hissed out acidly, “I don’t know, damn it.”

        Cas let up slightly on the pressure as he cocked his head to the side, trying to discern the truth, before he relinquished his hold. He thought it through and disagreed firmly, “No. You wouldn’t cast a spell without knowing . . .” 

        He trailed off as it suddenly became way too clear. The hand around Dean’s throat slid down slightly, allowing Dean’s head to sag forward, away from the wall. Dean gasped for air to fill his oxygen starved lungs. Shock filled Cas’s mind but it was quickly followed by another completely different emotion.

         In anger, he tightened his grip around Dean’s throat again and slammed his head back into the wall. He bit out in an irate hiss, “You mortal fool! You didn’t . . .” He trailed off again and growled before let his grip slack again, only to throw Dean against the wall again.

        “It’s from the Tablet! Isn’t it?” He snarled aggressively. “Answer me, Dean!”

        “Yes! Damn it,” Dean snapped out in angry pain. “Yea, okay. You got me. Happy now?”

        “You arrogant assbutt!” Cas raged hotly. “Did you even wait for them to finish translating or did you do it while they translated? Did you even check on the warnings? Consequences? What was the cost, you impulsive, irresponsible . . . human?” Cas snapped his head against the wall after each question before the most important one escaped him, “Does Sam know about this?”

        “D amn it! Get off of me, Cas,” Dean bit out tautly, even though his vision was blurring and he felt the darkness coming closer. “Or do you want to waste what I gave you healing me again?” His voice trailed off hoarsely and his body sagged wearily from the lack of oxygen.

        “Fool!” Cas growled with heat but he let go of the hunter who sagged against the wall. “You know better, Dean. Or don’t you remember what happened the last time we used one of my Father’s spells? Have you really forgotten Purgatory? After spending an entire Earth year there? Or were you hoping to be reunited with Benny? Do you really miss him that much? More than your brother?”

        “Oh, can it, Cas,” Dean rasped out harshly. “Nothing’s forgotten, you arrogant dick. You know that. I did it for you, damn it! If it was up to me, I’d have killed every last one of them sons of bitches but you wanted to save them. This was the only way so thanks a lot for the gratitude and all.”

        “I never wanted you to do this,” Cas argued instantly. “Not this. If you had even mentioned this to me, I would have told you that, but you didn’t. You knew I wouldn’t approve which is why you went behind my back. Do you even know what it cost you yet? What the hell did you trade off this time? I am not worth your soul, Dean, and I’m not certain I can pull you out of the Pit a second time, even with the power ups.”

        “Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Dean sputtered in exasperation.

        “Leave _Him_ out of this,” Cas snapped irritably. 

         Dean paused a brief instant, trying to follow that, before he barely shook his head and continued impatiently, “Whatever. I didn’t sell my soul or anything so take a freakin’ chill pill.” _Or at least he really hoped he hadn’t_ , he mentally amended. Once was definitely enough of that. “Hell, I don’t even know if what I did was permanent which means you need to stop busting my chops, get your ass to the bunker and see if they have anything for you to defeat Metatron with, because this is probably our only hope.”

         “What do you mean?” Cas inquired with his trademark head cock.

         “What I just said, damn it,” Dean bit out. “Kevin couldn’t tell if the spell was permanent or not but hopefully you’re an arch now and can go kick Metatron’s ass then get your asshat brothers back where they belong instead of screwing over the human race which seems to be their trademark move for this century.”

         “You did one of my _Father's_ spells knowing it . . .” Cas trailed off with complete disbelief clearly evident. He closed his eyes for a moment to regain his temper before he went off on his charge again. He glared at Dean and gritted out, “There are no words for . . . And I’m not, nor have I ever been, an arch. Don’t you remember what happened last time . . . Do you have . . . I can’t  . . . How could you do this! How could you not remember what . . . power . . .” 

         Cas growled low in his throat while his eyes began to glow bright blue. A low ringing sound started to fill the room. Cas closed his eyes and clenched his fists while Dean tried not to cringe before his powerful friend as he felt Cas start to lose control. Dean waited a moment, knowing this was so not the time to say anything.

       The ringing slowly faded away and when Cas opened his eyes again, they were back to their normal deep blue. He ordered adamantly, “Remain here until I return.” With a flutter of wings, Cas disappeared from the room.

       Dean exhaled heavily and sagged against the wall while he commented wryly to no one in particular, “Yeah, he definitely puts the ass in Cas.”

       “You should know,” Derek countered tautly from where he stood across the room.

       Dean glared at him so not in the mood for this right now and snarled in return, “Bite me, Cujo.”

       “Don’t tempt me,” Derek replied in kind.

       Dean glared at him, slowly decimating the wolf with his eyes. Derek didn’t appear to care. They were at a stand-off. But Dean was never one to let things be or back down so he just had to taunt cockily, “Bring it, mutt.”

       Before anyone could react, Derek growled out an animalistic response to the challenge and in a blink of an eye, he had Dean back against the wall with his teeth clamped down on the skin of his neck. His left hand gripped Dean’s hair to yank his head into a tilted, submissive position which the hunter didn’t seem to fight at all. He heard Stiles’s surprised exclamation of “Holy shit!” and breathed out against the warm neck as he barely pull back his teeth to say, “I could deal with the pain from the silver blade stabbing into my side, hunter. You would have been mine.”

       “In your dreams, wolf,” Dean taunted back softly with a slight smile before he reminisced in a normal voice, “Just like old times.” He steadfastly ignored how his body responded to the wolf’s immediate presence. He also ignored how hot he found being pounced on like that, how tantalizing the hot breath against his neck was, and how the danger got his blood pumping . . . to the totally wrong area.

       “Derek,” Argent called out in a deliberately calm voice. “Back away slowly.”

       “He’s got his gun on me, doesn’t he?” Derek surmised laughingly against Dean’s neck then drew in a long deep whiff of the hunter’s unique scent which was coated with arousal.

       Dean steadfastly refused to acknowledge how much he enjoyed this and glanced over to check the validity of Derek’s statement. He saw that both Argent and the sheriff had their guns trained on his wolf. No, Derek. 

_What the hell? Where did that sentiment come from?_ Dean thought distractedly before he nodded once slowly then added, “Yep. Sheriff, too. Now, get off me, you overgrown puppy.”

       Derek rolled his eyes and commented as he straightened then backed away slightly, “You are the only one who ever called me that, you know.”

       Dean shrugged slightly, “What can I say? I’m an original.”

       “Sure you are,” Derek intoned dully. “You just keep telling yourself that.”

        Dean smiled at his sarcastic friend before he admonished lightly, “Oh, don’t be such a sour wolf.”

       “See!” Stiles exclaimed with vindication, only to have the others roll their eyes at his antics.

       Argent shook his head slightly then wondered curiously, “How exactly do you two know each other?” He normally wasn’t one to question things, or people, but, from everything he’d heard about the deadly Winchester duo, and Dean, in particular, it didn’t make sense that the hunter wasn’t trying to kill Derek and the other wolves in the room.

       Dean and Derek tossed a glance at each other, only to have Derek shrug noncommittally to which Dean rolled his eyes. Then Dean summarized with his normal brisk vagueness, “On a hunt. Had a couple of rounds before we figured out we were both hunting something else. Teamed up. Ganked it. End of story.”

       “Rounds of what?” Stiles wondered curiously while Derek stared at Dean incredulously.

       “What!” Dean snapped irritably. It always ticked him off when people stared at him that way.

       “Seriously? That’s all?” Derek snapped back in kind. “I’m definitely getting all my answers from Cas from now on.” 

       “Cas?” Dean repeated curiously then growled irritably, “What the hell did that stupid featherhead say now?”

       “Oh, I got this,” Stiles piped up eagerly. “He said that you two had a ‘profound bond’.” He related with air quotes.

       “That moronic mouthy baby,” Dean swore hotly. “He’s a freaking child with superpowers. ‘Profound bond’, my ass. What the hell is that anyway? I’m gonna kick his ass.”

       “Does that mean you are married to an angel?” Issac wondered curiously, causing Derek to glare daggers at the young cub. “What? That’s supposed to be what a profound bond is, isn’t it?”

        Derek growled in response while his eyes flashed blue. Dean slapped lightly at the wolf’s hip and ordered lightly, “Control yourself, wolfen. They’re just naive kids, like Cas.”

        Derek turned to snap at him but saw that the hunter was sliding down the wall so he ordered briskly instead, “Stand up, Dean.”

         “What?” he replied vaguely, feeling very tired and in bad need of a bed. _Or couch_ , he amended mentally as he spotted it across the room but that was so far away.

         “You better sit him down, Derek,” Argent advised lightly.

         “You better sit down,” Dean snarked in a low, insolent voice. Derek leaned over to grab the hunter around the waist, only to be batted away. “Get off me, damn it.”

            “Then stand up,” Derek countered irritably. 

            “I am,” Dean snapped back but with less force than normal. He could feel himself fading but stubbornly hung on. He wasn’t about to pass out in front of everyone.

            “No, you aren’t,” Derek snapped back acidly. “You are sliding down the wall. Stop being an ass before I knock your stubborn ass out.”

            “Like to see you try,” Dean baited back, unwilling to back down, but he allowed the wolf to slide an arm around his waist this time. 

            “Whatever,” Derek dismissed without concern. “What’s wrong with you now?”

            Dean huffed out an unamused laugh, “Mentally, physical or, well, never mind. What can I say? Being almost dead twice in one afternoon wears on a body, even one as fine as mine.”

            “Yeah, right,” Derek scoffed wryly. “Don’t know what bothers me more. The way you constantly lie about your health or the fact that you take being on death’s door so well.”

            “Funny thing about Death actually,” Dean huffed with amusement. “He loves, and I mean, loves really good junk food. And Chicago’s deep dish pizza. That actually saved the whole freakin’ city when he was set to wipe it off the face of the Earth.”

            Derek allowed the hunter to slide down into the couch while Stiles commented for the sake of commenting as usual, “Good to know. Wait, wait, wait. Are you saying that you’ve actually meet Death? As in the actual Grim Reaper?”

            “Well, Cas did say that he had been in Purgatory and the Pit,” Scott repeated summarily. 

            “Which means that he has died, more than once,” Stilinski pointed out dryly.

            “And yet I still look this good,” Dean retorted automatically. 

            “Really, Dean?” Derek snarked in kind. “Death warmed over is a good look for you.”

            “You . . .” Dean started then redirected quickly. “Look, all this memory lane crap isn’t doing anything, or anybody any good. We’ve got bigger issues here.”

            “Like angels, apparently,” Argent stated dryly.

            “No,” Dean argued firmly. “We got the angels. They aren’t your problem and you don’t mess with them. None of them. No, what _you_ need to deal with are those three.” He pointed to Scott, Stiles, and Allison. “They’re what I came here to investigate. Or part of it, at least.”

            “What the hell are you talking about?” Stilinski snapped irritably.

            “What do you mean?” Argent asked at about the same time before glancing at his daughter who looked decidedly guilty.

            “They know,” Dean answered with certainty, his eyes never leaving the teens in question. “As do two of their friends. The redhead and Curly over there.”

            “What is he talking about, Allison?” Argent demanded assertively.

            “I don’t . . .” she started to evade, only to be cut off by Dean once again.

            “Yea, sure, deny it to them and anyone else you want, but you all had something to do with the dark magic that was unleased here,” Dean inserted caustically. “And the sooner you own up to it, the better. Then maybe I can take care of it before Dark Teen Wolf over there takes another bite out of Curly. Or do you actually want someone to end up dead? Because someone will the more the darkness takes over. You think you got it contained that you can handle it. But you don’t. Little by little, it will consume you until you are as dark as it is. Trust me, I know.”

            “How do you know it was them?” Stilinski queried curiously, no longer fighting the hunter’s assumption once he saw all the teens’ faces, especially his son’s.

            “Because something dark was in . . . Scott’s?” He glanced at Derek for confirmation before continuing, “In Scott’s eyes when he tried to attack Curly then me at the diner earlier today. Geez, was that really today? Damn, it’s been a long day. Anyway, when I was coming down from the spell, or whatever, earlier, I saw something dark surrounding those three. Argent’s daughter, Scott, and Mouth. Not sure exactly how Red and Curly were involved but, based on their expressions, they definitely were.”

            “If it was a spell, Deaton probably cast it,” Derek surmised logically. “You might want to call him in for questioning, Sheriff.”

            Both fathers turned to face their children who immediately started to deny and argue and just like that the room erupted with arguments. Dean leaned his head back on the sofa to rest while waiting for the teens to stop stalling and own up to the truth. He turned slightly and saw Derek assessing him. He sighed with resignation and asked quietly, “What?”

            Derek frowned slightly before he questioned in a similar tone, “How many times have you actually died, Dean?”

            “Of for the love of . . .” He quietly muttered with excessive exasperation before he ran a hand over his face and rubbed gently at his eyes. “Look, I told you before, man, we all die bloody. That’s just the way it is, especially for hunters.”

            “Yea, well, all the ones I’ve heard of, and known, only die once,” Derek retorted caustically.

            “Wouldn’t that be a welcome surprise,” Dean popped off cynically but exhaled heavily at Derek’s glare. “What? It . . . never mind. Now you know why I’ll never do forever, man. With anyone. It’s just not an option. Look, I’d never tell Sam this and I’ll deny it if you ever repeat this but we’re cursed. All us Winchesters. Because of it, most the people we get close to die horribly. That’s not happening anymore. Not on my watch.”

            “Dean,” Derek started calmly but Dean wouldn’t let him get it out.

            “No, Derek,” Dean argued firmly, even though he didn’t raise his voice. “You don’t believe me? Fine.” He paused for a moment to collect his thoughts but quickly realized that he didn’t have the energy to go through with this and probably never would. 

            He cursed softly then snapped out irritably, “Fine. You want to know. Well, I ain’t going to go through this right now and I’ll never go through all of it. So, if you really want to know, you need to get at least halfway caught up. Now, what I’m going to tell is not for anyone else to know. Capiche?” 

           He waited for Derek’s nod then closed his eyes a moment to steel himself. He was shocked to find he had to fight to open them again. He knew he’d taken too long when he heard Derek call his name.

         “’M fine,” Dean slurred out slightly then shook himself slightly to get the rest of this out. “So there’s this series of books that are apparently online now, damn it. Called, ‘Supernatural’. Written by this guy. Pen name, Carver Edmund. No idea who posted them. If I ever find out, I’ll kill . . .”

         “Dean,” Derek redirected firmly. “Why are you telling me about some stupid books?”

         “Because, damn it,” Dean cursed everything, himself, the universe, stupid freakin’ Chuck, wherever he may be. “Because the freakin’ things tell our life story starting on Halloween in 2005. In vivid detail. It’s freakin’ annoying, and intrusive. My life, thoughts, freakin’ broadcast for others personal amusement! If I ever find out . . .”

        “Dean,” Derek stated calmly with a hand on Dean’s thigh.

        “What?” Dean snapped automatically. Derek raised a questioning eyebrow and Dean huffed irritably, “You read about yourself, in a vivid, full frontal nude sex scene with an ex-girlfriend and see how you like all that shit being public knowledge.”

        Derek continued to stare at Dean with his eyebrow still raised and Dean rolled his eyes before relenting, “Dude, it was over five years ago and we haven’t had contact since. She made it perfectly clear that it was over, which is for the best, it turns out. Probably married with 2.5 kids by now. If she’s even alive.”

       “That’s comforting,” Derek commented sardonically.

       “Whatever,” Dean sighed and closed his eyes again, only to open them at the new voice beside them.

       “Did you really come back from the dead? Twice?” Danny asked with an awestruck voice. “And you’re like really human, right? Not a werewolf?”

        Dean rolled his head to the other side to take in the awestruck teen before he scoffed humorlessly, “Definitely not a wolf. Silver doesn’t burn me. Human? Well, guess that depends on your definition, doesn’t it?”

       “So you’re immortal?” Ethan assumed deductively.

       “Oh, Go . . . sh . . . it, I hope not,” Dean shot out caustically. “That would really suck.”

       “Are you serious?” Ethan verified with naive disbelief.

       “Hell, yeah, I’m serious,” Dean confirmed adamantly. “You think not being able to die is a good thing? You think knowing that it never ends no matter how many times you are ripped to shreds, both physically and emotionally, is a good thing? You think remembering all the ways you’ve been taken apart, piece by piece, only to be remade and have it happen all over again is a good thing? Don’t delude yourself, kid. Immortality is a real bitch.”

       “But you’re not immortal,” Derek clarified firmly.

       “No, I’m not,” Dean huffed out wearily. “I just have ‘work’ to do.”

       “And when is it’s done?” Danny wondered curiously.

       Dean sighed heavily as his eyes sagged shut while he mumbled wearily, “Then maybe I will be, too.”

       They all waited a moment for Dean to continue. The next thing that they all heard from the hunter was a soft snore. Danny and Ethan smirked slightly in amusement. Derek only shook his head then looked over at the rest of the crowd assembled.

            Stiles evaded impatiently, pointing at Dean, “How do we even know this guy is even telling the truth? I mean, we don’t even know . . .” They all turned to the others near and on the couch. “Oh my God! Is he seriously asleep right now? Now!”

            “Well, he has been mostly dead all afternoon,” Ethan reminded everyone wryly, only to have Derek glare at him. “What? Even he said that.”

            Derek glowered at the twin wolf a moment before he ordered abruptly, “Danny, go get Scott’s laptop from his room.” 

            “What? Why?” Scott stammered in surprise. 

            “Tell me what spell was cast on you and your friends then maybe I will answer your question,” Derek bargained knowingly.

            Of course, Scott’s mom walked into the house and living room at that moment, mentally cataloging all the damage done to her home, before she let loose. “What the hell happened to our door? What spell is he talking about, Scott? And who the hell is that man bleeding on my couch Why isn’t he in a hospital? Scott?””


	8. Enough Surprises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the rehash of past events this chapter and next but I need to get all the characters on the same page. Sort of.

            “Mom,” Scott cajoled slowly, “It’s not . . .”

            “Seriously?” Stiles inserted with excessive exasperation. “That’s what you’re going to go with? When it’s so obviously definitely exactly . . .”

            “Not helping, Stiles,” Scott ground out angrily.

            “I’m calling Deaton,” Stilinski announced dryly.

            “Do it,” Argent agreed adamantly, glaring at his stubborn daughter who was glaring steadfastly right back at him, “since we aren’t getting anywhere here and Dean’s out.” 

            “Is someone going to take that unconscious, beaten up man to the ER or am I?” Melissa threatened loudly.

            “Good luck with that,” Scott muttered under his breath.

            “What does that mean?” Melissa snapped back irritably. 

            “I mean, I’ve already tried that,” Scott explained tightly. “So has Stiles. According to him, and Derek, it isn’t happening.”

            “Why?” Melissa asked curiously. “Is he a wolf, too? Why isn’t he healing if he’s a wolf?”

            “No, he’s not a wolf,” Derek growled out. “He’s just a stubborn ass hunter who doesn’t believe in hospitals.”

            “Why not?” Melissa wondered distractedly.

            “Doesn’t matter,” Derek evaded dismissively. “He’s healing. Just needs rest. He’s not the issue.”

            “The issue? What issue?” Melissa demanded hotly, completely overwhelmed after her twelve hour shift. She had just planned to get home, take a long shower, and go to bed. Now she had a busted up front door and dining room and . . . “What spell, Scott?” 

            “Yea, that issue,” Derek answered softly then turned his attention to Danny and Ethan who came back into the living room with Scott’s laptop. They ignored everyone else in the room as they headed to the couch. Danny sat down beside Derek with the laptop on his lap and Ethan sat on the couch arm by Danny. 

            Danny immediately booted up the laptop while they listened to Scott and Stiles arguing their innocence. Stiles pointed out once again that no one even really knew Dean then demanded to know why their parents would believe a stranger over their own children. Derek rolled his eyes and saw that Danny was about to ask Scott his password but Derek guessed in a low voice, “Try ‘Allison’.”

            Danny arched an eyebrow in question then shrugged and typed it in. As they waited for the welcome screen to disappear and the system to load, they turned back to the discussion which had turned to the damage done to the house and what threat they were now facing. The welcome screen came up and Danny loaded Google then asked, “What criteria?”

            Ethan answered easily, “Supernatural book series by Carver Edlund.” Derek arched an eyebrow at him and Ethan shrugged nonchalantly then explained patiently, “We have a system in these type situations. Aiden focuses on one conversation while I focus on the other. We compare notes afterward.”

            Derek gave an impressed nod then turned his attention to the screen when Danny announced easily, “I found it. Supernatural by Carver Edlund.”

            “How many books are there in the series?” Derek questioned, wondering how many books he would need to read in order to get even halfway caught up with Dean’s life.

            Danny tapped a few keys then answered with some reluctance, “One hundred and four.”

            Derek’s eyes almost popped out as he verified with surprised awe, “One hundred and four books? Seriously?”

            “Are you actually trolling for some light reading now?” Stiles exclaimed with exasperated amazement. “You really think this is the time for that? See a lot of time for light reading in your near future or something?” 

            “Shut up, Stiles,” Derek growled out irritably then asked Danny, “Is there a synopsis, or cliff notes, or something? One hundred and four. How long is each book anyway?”

            “Well, he did say it would cover years of their lives,” Ethan remembered. “Even one year can be a long time.”

            Danny relied briskly, “Each book is over three hundred pages long which is over . . .” 

            “Over 312,000 pages,” Lydia rattled off quickly, jumping at any excuse to avoid the tense spell interrogation going on around her. 

            “Whose lives? What are you talking about?” Scott wondered curiously.

            Derek looked up and saw that everyone was now focused on them which is exactly what he knew Dean wouldn’t have wanted. He tried for distraction by prodding, “Any luck on that spell yet? What about Deaton?”

            “Deaton is on the way,” Stilinski answered easily. “What are you looking up?”

            “Nothing . . .,” Derek evaded pointedly, only to be sabotaged by Danny.

            “Looks like all of them are posted online by a . . . Samlicker69,” Danny recited with slight uneasiness over the name. 

            “Ew,” Stiles commented with disgust.

“Isn’t Dean’s brother’s name . . .” Ethan started to ask but didn’t get time to finish. 

            “Yeah,” Derek interrupted tightly then frowned as he looked at the long list of titles. He wondered aloud, “Does she have some sort of synopsis somewhere?”

            “How do you know it’s a she?” Stiles taunted curiously, causing Derek to scowl at him once again.

            “I’m not sure that it’s going to help anything but here it is,” Danny answered uncertainly then recited quickly. “ _’The dramatic story of a truly awesome, extremely gorgeous man named Sam, and his neurotic older brother, and their life long fight against evil and their cosmic destinies. Basically, how one beautiful man saved the world all by himself through selfless self-sacrifice. Okay, fine, with a little, very little, help from his brother_.’”

            Derek rolled his eyes at the obvious fangirl crush tint to the summary while Ethan observed dryly, “Sounds like she definitely wishes she was ‘Sam’s licker’.” 

            “Oh, wow, TMI, Ethan,” Stiles complained disgustedly.

            Danny smirked slightly then noticed an icon to the lower right hand side. “Looks like she might be online right now.”

            “Ask her for a summary,” Stiles suggested aloud.

            “Somehow I think her summary might be very skewed,” Derek observed dryly. 

            “Aw, come on, sour wolf,” Stiles cajoled annoyingly. “You should be thankful she’s leaving your boy toy alone, which is understandable considering how ancient he is.” 

            Derek growled in irritation and, once again, tried to remind himself that he didn’t harm innocents, no matter how cocky, mouthy and annoying they were.

            “What are you trying to find out anyway?” Scott wondered curiously as he tried to prevent his best friend from becoming the older wolf’s chew toy. 

            “Nothing,” Derek snapped irritably then ordered tightly,” Danny, shut it down.”

            “Oh, hey, I know,” Stiles popped off eagerly. “Ask her if Dean and Cas ever had sex.” Once again, everyone glared at Stiles who asked with exasperation, “What? We all know that’s what he really wants to know?”

            Derek growled low in his throat and moved forward, ready to spring at the insolent brat. Stilinski moved in between the two and hissed irritably at his son, “Shut up, Stiles. You’re on thin ice as it is.”

            “Hello?” called out a perky female voice from Scott’s computer.

            Derek swung around and growled at Danny who shrugged and answered uncomfortably, “I just asked if she was really online. I didn’t know Scott had Skype open.”

            “It opens automatically when I boot up, which I might have told you, if I’d given you permission to logon to begin with,” Scott snapped out irritably.

            “Oh, sorry,” the voice interjected contritely. “I thought you wanted something. I’ll just . . .”

            “Hey, real quick. Did Dean and Cas ever have sex?” Stiles called out quickly, only to hear everyone groan at the question and a clash of bodies with growling and snapping. “Shit,” Stiles cursed lightly when he saw Scott and Issac trying to hold Derek back by the couch.

            “Dumbass,” Stilinski snapped irritably then he snapped out to Derek, “Calm down, Derek.”

            “Calm down,” Issac reinforced through gritted teeth, “You know that Stiles is an idiot with no brain-to-mouth filter.”

            “Derek!” Scott snapped at the same time. 

            Derek snarled at them both then stilled himself and drew in a deep breath before he warned tautly, “You control him or  . . .” He pushed them off of him then turned and flopped back down on the couch in his spot. He turned to check and saw that Dean was still asleep.

            “Ooookaayyy,” the voice drawled out slowly then wondered curiously, “Did you want me to answer that or should I just log off now?”

            “Who the hell are you?” Derek snapped out with excessive frustration.

            “I’m, uh, you know, just a fan, of the, you know, series,” the voice stammered slightly, uncomfortable with the current situation. “Oh, in answer to your question, no, Cas and Dean never did, although several fangirls do write a lot of fanfiction about that, what with all their eyesexing all the time. But the books pretty much hold with the fact that Cas is an angel of the Lord so he really didn’t have any of those type desires, etc.” 

            She trailed off then started snickering as she related with excess amusement, “Even when Dean took him to that ‘house of ill-repute’ which was hilarious, by the way, Cas got kicked out for creeping out the girl with . . . never mind, you just really have to read that one.”

            “See, Derek,” Stiles started reassuringly, only to have Scott slap a hand over his mouth and there was a slightly scuffle before Stiles finally managed to get out, “You got nothing to worry about. He’s all yours.”

            Derek gritted out the soft promise that only the wolves, and Danny, could hear, “I swear I’m going to kill him.”

            “Who?” The voice wondered with confusion. “Cas? I wouldn’t do that if I were you. Dean doesn’t like it when people go after his family and he considers Cas family. Like another younger brother, even. Anything else?”

            “What happened in St. Louis?” Stilinski verified thoughtfully.

            “Oh, in ‘Skin’, that’s the title of that book, Sam got a call from an old college friend asking for help because her brother was being framed for murder. This was only a few months after . . . well, you know, so after they did their usual arguing and Dean saw that my Sam was right yet again, you’d think he’d have learned by now, they headed to St. Louis to check it out. They found a shapeshifter there but it got the jump on them and captured them.”

           “While they were tied up, it tortured Sam’s friend looking exactly like Dean. The boys escaped their bonds and called the police on it but it escaped then later got the drop on Sam again because it had changed its skin to look like his friend, Becky, which is also my name by the way. Dean was running from the police at the time. When Sam woke up, he saw that the shifter had changed back into Dean again because it knew it would hurt Sam more to have someone looking like his brother torturing him. Anyway, Sam broke free and they fought until the real Dean finally got there and shot it. Two silver bullets, dead center in the chest. Guess you could say it was the first time that he killed himself for his brother.”

           “The first time?” Derek prodded meaningfully but Becky was on a roll and continued.

           “But since the police had seen the shifter wearing Dean before and they found the dead shifter’s body still looking like Dean, Dean took the wrap for all the murders committed by the shifter. So Sam’s friend’s brother was cleared of all charges and Dean was declared dead until he was caught by police again later in Baltimore. He was pretty much a wanted man throughout the whole series,” Becky finished quickly.

           Everyone just stared at each other for a long moment before Stilinski verified with amazement, “Are you telling me that they write books about their lives and then publish them?”

          “What?” Becky exclaimed with disbelief that sounded slightly fake before sounding even more fake as it misdirected badly, “No, of course not. How silly would that be? No, this is purely fiction. It’s not true. Like there are really shapeshifters out there. Please.”

          Stilinski narrowed his eyes and clarified authoritatively, “So there is no Dean Winchester in these books?”

          “No, of course . . . wait, Winchester?” Becky questioned in a very small, frightened voice. “Uh, I, uh, gotta . . . go.”

          "No, you don’t,” Stilinski argued tightly as he stalked over to the laptop. Becky gave a slight squeal of fright but Danny held up a hand to the sheriff to wait. He could tell she was about to log off.

          “No, listen,” Danny delayed slightly in his most charming voice, using his best puppy dog eyes. “We aren’t . . . well, I’m not sure what you’re afraid of but we aren’t that. We are just slightly confused and were wondering if you could help us out.” 

          She paused on screen, clearly undecided, so he continued easily, “Look, I’m Danny, and, well, I just meet Dean and . . .” She squeaked with fright and scrambled to shut off her screen but Danny cajoled, “He’s not here, if that’s what you’re afraid of. By the way, why exactly are you afraid of Dean?”

          She paused again then verified in a very small voice, “He’s not there?”

          Danny paused for a moment and elaborated slightly, “Well, he’s here but not here.”

         “What does that mean?” She wondered with confusion. “Oh, crap, are you a demon? You’re not a demon, are you? Christos.”

         “No, I’m not a demon,” Danny started to explain before she interrupted again.

         "Is Sam there, too?” She asked hopefully. “Could I talk to him? No, wait. He probably doesn’t . . . could you just turn the computer so I could . . .

         “No,” Danny interrupted quickly, “I can’t because he’s not here with Dean. They are apparently doing different hunts, I think.”

         “Well, that never ends well,” she remarked sarcastically. “Every time they separate, they get hurt or sacrificed to something or worse . . . nothing good ever comes of it. Oh, crap, is Dean okay? It would just kill Sam if something happened to him. Oh, God, please tell me Dean didn’t die again.”

         “No, no, Dean’s just sleeping. See,” he related then turned the laptop so that she could see Dean’s sleeping form.

         "Oh, thank goodness,” she exhaled with relief. “It would have really killed Sam if Dean had died again. I’d hate for Sam to have to live without Dean again. He really didn’t do so well the first time and, God knows, we don’t want a repeat of that happening.”

         “What happening?” Derek wondered with dread.

         “Better yet,” Stilinski interrupted tightly as he was finally standing by Ethan starring at the woman on the screen. “Why don’t you give us a synopsis of the whole series since they apparently write books about their exploits?”

         “Oh, good God, no, they don’t do that,” She argued with amusement. “No, these books were written by a friend of mine who used have . . . never mind. We’ll get to that.”

         “Okay, so the first set of books, or year one, as some of us like to call them, start on October 30, 2005 but it starts with this prologue which happens about 22 years ago. It has Sam’s mother, Mary, kissing 6 month old Sam good night. Then she and John, her husband, put Dean who is 4 to bed as well. Sometime during the night, Mary is woken up by the baby monitor then gets up to check on Sam.”

        "Downstairs, John hears Mary scream so he races upstairs and into the nursery, only to find the room quiet and no sign of his wife. He walks over to check on an awake baby Sam. He starts to turn away when he notices something dark drip onto the baby’s blanket. He glances up and spots his wife, laid out flat, stuck to the ceiling, with her dead face showing the horror of what happened. Her abdomen is slit and bleeding. Before he can even finish her name, the ceiling bursts into flame all around her.”

       “He grabs up a now screaming Sam and hands the baby to Dean who is now standing in the nursery doorway with the order, ‘Take your brother downstairs as fast as you can. Go now, Dean. Go!’”

       “Dean turns and stumbles downstairs with Sam held tight in his arms while John tries to save his wife to no avail. Dean stops right outside the house to look back for his parents when John comes running out and scoops up both kids. He runs away from the house as the nursery upstairs explodes. And so begins his lifelong pursuit of revenge for the demon that killed his wife.”

       “So it really happened,” Argent commented softly.

       “He saw his mother burn up on the ceiling,” Allison verified with horror.

       “Supposedly,” she answered lightly, “although I really don’t think anyone knows for sure, except maybe Dean, but Dean doesn’t talk about that stuff, if he can at all help it.”

       “Think we can speed this up a little?” Derek prodded impatiently.

       “Why? You got a date?” Stiles asked sarcastically. “Oh, wait, he’s already here.”

       Derek chose to ignore him this time and asked, “What is the overall theme for each year of the series? Or what books are the key ones?”

       “Well, the whole first year of books involves the brothers’ search for their father who has suddenly disappeared and revenge on the demon who happens to kill Sam’s college girlfriend in the exact same way that their mother was killed. They finally find the demon when it takes possession of their father in the last book of that year. Some really harsh things were said to Dean but some of the facts were true. Sam is a helluva lot more important than Dean ever was, or ever will be. That’s just the way it is. Sam is special in a very awesome type of way. After all, it’s Sam who saves the entire world, more than once. Dean doesn’t do anything but cry, although he does do it in a very manly way. Supposedly.”

       Derek is unable to stop the building anger at this obviously obsessed groupie’s opinion of Dean. His low growl rumbled in his chest but he was distracted as he felt Dean flinch beside him. He turned to check on his friend and saw a frown mar his sleeping face. He sniffed slightly and frowned at a faint, unrecognizable tinge to Dean’s normal scent. He subtly placed a hand on his friend’s thigh and that seemed to relax Dean slightly.

       In the background, Becky continued, “Anyway, Dean and John were seriously hurt in the confrontation so Sam rushes them to the hospital in the Impala but a 18-wheeler crashes into them on the way. It puts Dean in a death-like coma. In the end, John ends up making a deal with the demon, Azazel. Basically, the deal is John’s life and soul in exchange for Dean’s, who’s definitely dying. So John dies and Dean makes a miraculous recovery but, deep down, Dean knows and later in year two a demon confirms that John is now in Hell because of the deal.”

      "Year two, the boys also discover that Sam is one of a group of psychic kids that were feed demon blood as babies in preparation for a coming war. That’s what Azazel was doing in the nursery all those years ago. Sam also finds out that John’s last command to Dean was that Dean has to kill Sam if Dean cannot save him from the demon stuff.”

      “Anyway, at the end of year two, all the psychic kids are teleported into this death match old ghost town for the ultimate survivor competition. Basically, a last man standing kind of deal. Dean finally finds Sam right as Sam gets stabbed by the last psychic standing, Jake. Jake, whose power was super strength, knifes Sam in the spine and yanks up before he runs away. Dean arrives just in time for his little brother to die in his arms. Oh, God, it was so heartrending. Poor Sam who was everything good and brave and caring and good in the world was dead because Dean’s short and couldn’t run fast enough.”

      “But we know Sam’s not dead so what happened?” Stiles asked curiously.

      “And can we speed it up a little?” Stilinski added impatiently.

      “Doing the best I can here. They go through a helluva lot every year, I’ll have you know. Anyway, Dean followed his father’s footsteps and makes a deal with a crossroads demon. He gets to live one year before he has to go to Hell but, at least, Sam is back, which is the really important thing here. Oh, and because Sam is so awesome, he lets Dean finally avenge their mother by killing Azazel.”

       “After that, he tries to hide his deal from Sam but couldn’t so that’s the plot for year three. Sam works so very hard to break Dean’s deal but, in the end, there’s no escaping the Pit. In ‘No Rest For The Wicked’, the last book in year three, they are tricked and Dean gets ripped to pieces by hell hounds right in front of poor Sam then Dean’s dragged to Hell and thrown  on the rack.”

       “FYI, there’s not a lot about Hell in the books even though I believe my friend, Chu-Carver, saw more than he ever wanted to of that. He said imagination was way more powerful but I think he just couldn’t describe it and didn’t really want to ever think of it long enough to attempt to write it. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah.”

       “Year four opens with Dean waking up in his wooden coffin. He breaks through it then has to dig his way to the surface. He meets up with Sam again. Sam was so lost without his brother who was a wuss to leave him that way. They had an awesome brother moment but they both are hiding things from each other. Dean lies and says he doesn’t remember Hell, even though he remembers every minute of it in vivid detail, especially at night. Also, Dean’s being followed by this awesomely powerful force that we later find out is Castiel, angel of the Lord, who gripped Dean tight and raised him from Perdition. He had a totally badass entrance into the series.”

     “So Castiel tells Dean that he was saved because God has work for him to do and part of that is to find out what Sam is up to. Poor Sam was so desperate for revenge against the demons who had put his brother in Hell that he started believing in the wrong person. It wasn’t his fault. If Dean hadn’t left him alone in the first place, none of this . . .”

      “Focus, please,” Stilinski redirected abruptly.

      “Anyway, they find out that Mary made the first deal with a demon years ago to bring their father back from the dead and that’s why the demon was in poor little Sammy’s nursery to begin with. They also find out that angels aren’t the loving, Michael Landon types and that they are actual manipulative dicks who set things in motion that couldn’t be stopped, no matter how hard the boys tried. And, boy, did they try their hardest.”

      “Year four ends with Sam mistakenly opening the box that held Lucifer bound in Hell. So the last book in that year, ‘Lucifer Rising’, is about just that. Lucifer rising from the pit and the beginning of the Apocalypse.”

      “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Scott interrupted impatiently. “Are you talking about the actual Apocalypse, Apocalypse? As in the four horsemen . . .”

      Stiles snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “Of course, that’s what he meant about meeting Death.”

      “Yea,” Becky sighed in remembrance. “That was in the second to the last book of the series. He actually had to have dinner with Death in Chicago. Dean really didn’t like that one bit and would never admit how terrified he was during that meeting which is why he, of course, had to smart off to even the Horseman of Death.”

      “Anyways, the last year, year five, is about the brothers doing whatever they could to stop Lucifer and the Apocalypse. Of course, my awesome Sam is the one who stops the Apocalypse all by him lonesome. He outsmarted the Devil and tricked Lucifer right back into the box in the Pit. Unfortunately, poor, brave Sammy ends up in the Pit as well but the Apocalypse was averted and no one, other than the Winchesters, their uncle, and, of course, Cas, was the wiser,” Becky ended triumphantly.

       “What happened after that?” Stiles wondered curiously.

       “Don’t know for sure,” Becky shrugged uneasily. “Chu . . . my friend disappeared not long after the final battle so all I know is what he had written as a summary. With Sam in the box with Lucifer, Dean complied with Sam’s last wish for him to go live a normal life with one of his one-night stand’s who had a child that they thought might be Dean’s but the mom denied it. So Dean left hunting to do that while Bobby, their uncle, continued to hunt and Cas went back up to Heaven where he thought he was most needed. The End.”

       Derek felt Dean’s flinches increase as he also started to toss and turn. The unknown scent became stronger as the dissertation had continued. Derek finally identified it as fear and pain. Dean was having a horrible nightmare. He turned to watch Dean with a thoughtful frown 

       “So that brings us up to 2010, right?” Scott calculated.

       “More like May 2011,” Becky amended quickly.

       “So what have they been doing since then?” Stilinski asked curiously.

       “Not sure,” Becky answered thoughtfully. “I know that they missed their annual Vegas trips the next two years but they made the one after that and . . .”

       Dean’s fear became stronger and Derek couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned over and commanded softly in his ear, “Dean. Wake up.”

       Dean shot forward and was sitting up before his eyes were even all the way open. He muttered hurriedly, “I’m awake. I’m awake.”

       His eyes quickly scanned his audience without really seen anything other than the fact that they were not a threat. He leaned forward as his head fell into his hands and he shuddered slightly. He shot up into a standing position and stumbled out of the room. 

       Derek called out then hurried after him, “Dean.”

       “’m fine,” Dean mumbled distractedly as he continued into the dining room and straight to the whiskey bottle. He immediately picked it up and drank the rest of it down without taking a breath. He set it down hard and braced himself with both arms as he leaned over the table to regulate his breathing and clear the last of the Hell memories away. It had been a really long time since he’d had one that bad. That one was Alistair at his finest.

       “So,” Derek began contemplatively after watching Dean trying to regain his control over his memories. “Was it Hell, Purgatory, or some other God forsaken place?”

       “Does it matter?” Dean rasped out cynically.

       “Dean, exactly how many times have you actually died?” 

       Dean scoffed humorlessly then clarified with even more cynicism, “In a day, a year, or the last decade? You really need a pick a range, Derek.”

       In the silence that followed they heard Becky answer, “Yea, they’ve died a lot. I know they’ve both been to Heaven and Hell. Don’t know anything about Purgatory, though. That was never mentioned in any of the books.”

       “Is that . . .” Dean started incredulously then quickly switched to outright ire. He stormed past Derek and snarled as he entered the living room, “Becky Rosen!” She squealed with fright and logged off immediately. Dean spun around and continued to snarl at his new target, Derek, “What the hell are you doing talking to freakin’ Becky Rosen? What . . . aw, hell, did she know I was here?”

       “Well, obviously, since you just scared her into an early grave,” Stiles snarked immediately.

       “Shit,” he swore violently while he scrambled for his phone only to find it wasn’t there. “Where the hell is my phone?” He demanded irately while he instinctively turned to Derek who tossed it to him.

       Dean snatched it out of the air and immediately dialed Sam then swore with each ring, “Come on, Sammy. Pick up your damn phone.”

      “Dean?” Derek questioned vaguely.

      “Not now, damn it,” Dean snapped irritably as he hung up and immediately dialed another number. “I swear if that bitch kidnapped Sammy again, I will gank her ass, human or not.”

      "Hello, Dean,” the female voice on the line answered testily. “Nice of you to finally call and let me know you lived through the freakin’ spell. You know, keep us from worrying about you and all.”

       “Can it, Charlie,” Dean bit out forcefully. “Where’s Sam?”

      “Uh, well, see,” Charlie stalled uneasily. “About that.”

      “Where is he, Charlie?” Dean gritted out firmly, trying to control his temper.

       Charlie sighed heavily then admitted reluctantly, “He left yesterday, to go help you. He didn’t want to wait for you because we all know how things tend to go when you two are separated. Remember the scarecrow god?”

      “Oh, for crying . . . it was a freakin’ vanir and years ago and this is nothing like that,” Dean exploded violently. “I don’t need Sam for this, damn it. It would’ve only taken a day or so more then . . . why the hell isn’t anyone working on the important thing? You know, Metatron? Freakin’ fallen angels all over the place being pissed? Any of this ringing a bell? Why am I the only one who sees the freakin’ big picture here? Now I have to go find Sam before I can finish this because his freakin’ obsessed groupie probably kidnapped him again and OD’d him with more freakin’ love potion!” 

      He punched the end button on his phone then tried Sam’s number one more time. Sam picked up after the second ring this time, “Dean?”

      “Where the hell are you, damn it?” Dean gritted out irritably. “Why the hell didn’t you pick up?”

      “Why haven’t you picked up any time I’ve called in the past two hours?” Sam snarled out in kind. “Why didn’t you call back like you said you would?”

      “Because I’m still talking with Argent,” Dean answered with a quick glance at the hunter in question. “And I didn’t answer because my phone died.”

      “Funny,” Sam snarked back sarcastically, “so did mine.”

      Dean leaned his head back with his eyes closed and exhaled heavily. “Whatever. How far out are you?”

      “A day,” Sam replied tightly which easily told Dean his brother was still pissed. “Is it done?”

     "No, and it won’t be by then,” Dean countered reluctantly. “Know a black magic spell is involved but don’t know which one or if there’s a counter. Hopefully will know more by the time you get here.” He paused uncertainly as he glanced at each of the wolves in the room before he continued firmly, “Just so you know, there’s a werewolf pack integrated with the town.”

     “What?!” Sam exclaimed with surprise.

     “Argent is watching over it. Most of the members are teens and considered harmless,” Dean reported briskly. “Annoying as hell but harmless. We aren’t allowed to interfere. Copy?”

      There was a moment of silence before Sam asked tightly, “What are you trying to say, Dean?”

      “I believe I was pretty damn clear, Sam,” Dean reaffirmed harshly. He tightened his hand on the phone and bit his bottom lip nervously. He really hoped that Sam would get the message without pitching a fit.

      “This is about Benny, isn’t it?” Sam snapped out irritably.

      "This is about letting you know what the home turf situation is, who’s in control of it, and that it’s not us this time,” Dean stated with calm, slow clarity and the hope that this wouldn’t escalate into one of their huge fights. “Is this going to be a problem? Because if it is . . .”

      “So it is about Benny,” Sam surmised angrily. 

     “No, it’s about you,” Dean snapped back in kind. “And your ability to let things go. It’s not our area and we need to obey their rules.”

     “It’s funny. Hearing you say something like that,” Sam huffed out.

     “Sam,” Dean sighed heavily. “Look, I got this, as I’ve told you repeatedly. I have people here already helping and we have a lot bigger problems you can be working on right now.”

      “We’ll take care of those problems after we take care of this,” Sam compromised easily. “You know we work better as a team. And I won’t bother the wolves, although I have to admit it’s interesting.”

      “Yeah, I just bet it is,” Dean snarked sarcastically under his breath. “What’s your ETA?”

      “About dinner time tomorrow,” Sam replied quickly. “What hotel are you at?”

      “I’ll let you know when you get here,” Dean evaded automatically.

      “Why is that, Dean?” Sam questioned suspiciously.

      “Have to change cards,” Dean lied easily. “Best to do that at a new one and I haven’t had time to check that out. Was going to ask Argent for a referral after we’re done. Which reminds me, I really should get back to it.”

      “Fine,” Sam sighed with resignation. “I’ll call you when I get to town.”

      “Be careful, Sammy,” Dean sighed off. 

      “You, too, Dean,” Sam replied in kind and hung up.

      “Great,” Dean muttered sarcastically under his breath and ran a hand threw his hand. “That’s just great.”

      “What’s wrong, Dean?” Derek asked curiously.

      Dean sighed heavily, “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong. Just have to solve this before he gets here.”

      “Why don’t you trust him around us?” Scott prodded.

      “Why don’t you want him here if you two are such a great team?” Aiden piped in.

      Dean shook his head and redirected firmly, “That’s not . . . Doesn’t . . . Look, we need to focus on the freakin’ spell. Did the teens spill yet?”

      “Oh, no, you don’t,” Stiles countered quickly. “You aren’t setting them on us again when you won’t answer our questions. How do you expect us to trust you . . .”

      “We can’t,” Scott interrupted firmly with scowl on his face. “We can’t trust him. He’s one of them. A hunter. He will come after us as soon as his brother shows up.”

      “He’s an evil liar,” Allison piped up with the same menace. “He’s here to destroy us all.”

      Dean could see the darkness settling into all three teens’ eyes this time. He could also easily tell it was all directed at him. He was the threat to it so, of course, it would go after him. But, in this crowded living room, he had to protect the humans not involved. He ordered in a low voice that he hoped only Scott could possibly hear, “Derek, order your pack to keep the humans safe and out of the way.”

      “They aren’t _my_ pack,” Derek snarled back in a low voice.

       Dean shot a confused glance at him then commented wryly, “You’re going to have to explain that to me again. So whose are they?”

      “Scott’s,” Derek answered tightly.

      “Great,” Dean huffed cynically. “That’s just great.”

       Ethan who had stood up at the end of the phone call and carefully made his way over to Derek was close enough to add, “Actually, we are pretty individual. There is no clear pack yet. Aiden will keep Lydia and Danny safe. Issac will help protect Scott’s mom. But, honestly, you’re the only one they are targeting at the moment.”

      Dean expelled a heavy breath then observed sarcastically, “Perfect.”

     “He can’t answer because he’s too busy keeping his own secrets,” Scott surmised hatefully. “He has so many that he can’t keep track and yet he has to dig into others’ then preach to them. What a hypocrite.”

     “Fine. Here we go,” Dean warned softly before he taunted, “Is that so Teen Wolf? What makes you think that you are in any position to judge?”

     “What makes you think you are?” Scott demanded hotly as he took a step forward.

     Dean made brief eye contact with Issac then glanced to Melissa and back again. Issac nodded quickly while Dean answered with barely a pause in dialogue, “Because you and your friends unleashed an evil here with this idiotic spell and now I have to save your naïve, immature little asses.”

     “Who asked you to save anything?” Scott hissed angrily with his eyes flashing gold.

     At the same time, Stiles snapped irritably, “Naïve, my ass, we knew exactly what we were doing.”

     "Oh, so you willingly allowed a demon to make you into their bitch,” Dean continued to taunt mockingly, “Why? What did you get out of it? Good grades? Scholarships? Girls? Well, we definitely know it wasn’t the girl for at least one of you because Scott definitely didn’t get her?”

     Scott snarled angrily and started to transform while Stiles just charged. Allison, however, got off a bolt before Stiles made it to Dean. Dean dodged to the side, barely avoiding the arrow that Derek caught as he snarled and transformed. Dean also evaded Stiles roundhouse punch easily while Ethan grabbed him from behind and held him tight enough to effectively stop any fight, no matter how much Stiles struggled. Dean quickly dismissed Stiles from his mind and checked his actual opponent.  

      Scott had fully transformed and charged at Dean who managed to duck and get a knee into the wolf’s abdomen before Scott batted him into the wall, head first. Pain exploded inside his head and his world went white but he didn’t blackout unfortunately. He vaguely heard Derek snarl out the order, “Stay down, Dean.”

      Between Derek and Issac, they quickly battled Scott down to the ground but it was a painful process. He heard Allison screaming out for them to stop but knew that until the young wolf stopped, the others wouldn’t. He finally heard what they had been waiting for.

     Allison cried out, “Stop it! You’re killing him. We did it for them, okay? We don’t know the spell but we did it for them.”

     “Them who?” Dean snapped out hoarsely as he staggered groggily to his feet.

     “Their parents,” a calm, deep, very mature voice answered calmly from the doorway. Dean slowly turned his head while blinking to clear his vision and viewed a bald, African American of average height and weight. The man added in the same calm voice, “Perhaps you should stop pummeling my young assistant there.”

     “Deaton,” Stilinski announced with concern.

     “Cas, need your feathery ass back down here now,” Dean called out in a normal voice. He rubbed a hand over his face and touched the knot on his head. He looked at his hand as he pulled it away and winced when he saw the blood.

     “Derek,” Deaton called out meaningfully.

     “I would,” Derek panted slightly, “if he would calm down but he’s still in full alpha attack mode.”

     With a fluttering of wings, Cas appeared in the room, midway between Dean and the fight. Cas surveyed the scene quickly then glanced at Dean and frowned unhappily. “You are injured. Again.” 

     “Talk to cursed wolf over there,” Dean bit out angrily then winced at the pain that resounded throughout his head. “You need to pull all three out of the spell now. I’m out of holy water.”

     “Very well,” Cas replied robotically then quickly flew to each teen, only touching each briefly, before flew to Dean’s side. “You are also bleeding. Again.” He touched Dean’s head before Dean could argue.

     “Damn it, Cas,” Dean cursed violently without any pain this time. “Quit that! You know you have to save your mojo for the big bad upstairs. Quit wasting it on me because I sure as hell am not powering you up again.”

     “No, you aren’t, Dean,” Cas warned menacingly.

     “Whatever,” Dean dismissed the warning with his usual nonchalant attitude. “How long will the teens be in control? Did you fix them?”

     “Temporarily,” Cas reported briskly as he surveyed the befuddled teens who were coming out of the spell influence. They shook their heads and glanced around curiously. “They will be in control until something angers them again. What angered them this time?” 

     Everyone looked directly at Dean who shrugged without concern and acknowledged wryly, “It’s a gift.”

     “Sounds genetic to me,” Stiles snarked easily, demonstrating that he was definitely back in character.

     “Can it, buzzcut,” Dean snapped easily then questioned Cas directly, “Can you reverse the spell?”

     “No,” Cas admitted firmly, “it was cast using ancient dark magic. In addition, if the spell is reversed, the reason for which it was cast would be . . .”

     “Would be what?” Dean demanded with exasperation. “What the hell . . .”

     “He means that if you reverse the spell,” Deaton interjected patiently, “the reason they cast the spell, to save each of their respective parents, will be null and void. In other words . . . the parents will die as they should have, as sacrifices for the Darack.”

     “Darack? What the hell is a Darack?” Dean questioned with frustrated confusion.

    “A dark druid,” Cas translated easily.

    “Great. Another freakin’ witch,” Dean cursed violently. “Freakin’ hate those things. So freakin’ skeevy. What the hell did she need sacrifices for anyways?”

    “She was doing a very powerful ritual to gather enough power to fight the alpha pack moving into the area,” Deaton related easily.

    “Okay, so what happened?” Dean prodded impatiently. Everyone was silent for a moment, glancing at each other, so Dean pried irritably, “What? You all have to get your stories straight or something?”

     Aiden smirked slightly then explained seriously, “It wasn’t a single attack so we all had different angles. The Darack went after Kali who was going after Derek and his sister first.” Dean frowned in confusion but Aiden continued, “See, even though those that weren’t part of any pack had to choose sides, so Kali went to Derek and his sister first . . . but the Darack was there and we,” he motioned to his twin, “were part of the Alphas. We were ordered to take out Derek and Cora out but the Darack . . . she . . . she just . . .” Aiden trailed off, obviously still pretty traumatized by whatever it was that the Darack did to him.

    Scott took over, “I agreed to go with the Alpha leader, Deucalion, because he was going to help me get my mother back who was being held as a sacrifice. We went to the place where all of it started for Deucalion and waited for the Darack to arrive. She arrived with Derek who said that he was actually there to help me. In the end, we all fought the Darack but it was Deucalion was the one who ripped out her throat.”

     “So she’s dead?” Dean verified quickly. “You have her body buried somewhere?” Scott immediately glanced at Derek who stood with his arms crossed in front of his chest. Derek caught the glance and looked down. Dean caught it and sighed heavily, “What, Derek?”

     Derek looked up at Dean and answered reluctantly, “Her body disappeared from the site. We don’t know where it went.”

     “Like it turned into dust disappeared?” Dean verified hopefully.

     “No, like we turned away for a second and then it was gone,” Scott countered firmly.

     “So, how do you know she’s really dead?” Dean questioned with dread.

     They both looked at each other then Scott reaffirmed confidently, “She had to be. I mean, her throat . . .”

     “She’s lived through that before,” Derek interrupted reluctantly. “That’s what turned her. When her pack alpha, Kali, tried to kill her, along with the rest of her pack, Jennifer was ripped to shreds, including her throat. She suffered life threatening injuries but managed to live long enough to become . . .”

     “The Darack,” Dean ended with resignation.

     “Yes,” Derek confirmed solemnly.

     “Well, we have to find the body or . . .”

     “She’s still out there, possibly controlling our children,” Stilinski summarized wearily.

     "Assuming no one else has found the body yet,” Dean added with little hope. “Are we sure that another wolf . . .”

     “We are the only wolves in the area,” Scott interrupted arrogantly.

     “Derek,” Dean verified.

     “Don’t ask me,” Derek argued firmly. “I’ve been away, remember?”

     “What about Peter?” Scott asked curiously.

     Derek rolled his eyes slightly then sighed heavily with resignation, “Fine. I’ll call him.”

     "Creepy uncle time?” Dean confirmed with a smirk.

     “Hey, I found out that you have an uncle, too, you know,” Derek countered mockingly.

     “Yea, but Bobby always was really more of a tough love, kick your ass, give you a beer, kinda uncle, though,” Dean replied back with only a hint of sadness in his eyes.

     Derek noticed the past tense and sorrow as he pulled out his phone and offered softly, “Sorry.” He pressed Peter’s number and waited for Peter to answer.

     “Yea, well, it’s the life,” Dean dismissed uneasily while he surveyed the scene looking for something to distract him from that memory.

     “Bobby Singer?” Argent confirmed then when Dean gave a quick nod, Argent prodded curiously, “What was it?” 

     “Dick,” Dean responded tightly. 

     “Oh, he was gay, too?” Stiles popped off incredulously. “Runs in the family, does it?”

     “No! Damn it!” Dean snapped angrily and glared at the little pimple. “He was killed by the head Levianthan who was masquerading as Dick freakin’ Roman. And stabbing that Dick is what got my ass sent to Purgatory.”

     Stiles snickered then repeated solemnly, “So . . .  stabbing dick an’ asses gets you sent to Purgatory. Got it.”

     “Really, Stiles?” Scott questioned incredulously.

     “I am truly sorry,” Cas intoned with heartfelt apology. 

     Dean rolled his eyes and replied with excess exasperation, “We’ve been over this, Cas. For a whole freakin’ year in Purgatory. Remember? Which reminds me, what’s happening at the Batcave?”

     “We need to talk,” Cas warned him meaningfully. 

     “You have something to do?” Dean questioned intently.

     “Perhaps. After we talk,” Cas answered vaguely.

     “Awesome,” Dean answered with a decided lack of enthusiasm. 

     Derek announced to the room, “Peter says he hasn’t seen or smelled anything like a body in the woods since the big fight.”

     “We haven’t either,” Aiden reported instantly.

     “So either she’s healed up and possibly controlling these tweenies, or her spirit is,” Dean surmised quickly. “Without a body, it’ll be difficult to stop her so it sounds like you wolves have a hunt ahead of you, except for Scott who needs to be on lockdown since he’s compromised.”

     “Wonderful,” Scott commented with dull sarcasm.

    "In the meantime, the other two need to be watched as well. Cas, you need to get the spell from the freakin’ Professor Snape wannabee over there,” Dean ordered briskly when he pointed to Deaton. “Write it down and give it to me. Sam will be here tomorrow and we’ll figure something out from there.” 

    Cas immediately flew over to Deaton who startled slightly at the sudden appearance by his side then asked with confusion, “What are you doing? Who are you?”

    “I need you to think about the spell you cast on the youths,” Cas instructed abruptly, pointedly ignoring the questions, as he placed two fingers on Deaton’s forehead.

     Deaton automatically thought about the spell, unable not to, then shook his head, dislodging the angel’s fingers. He prodded with more force, “What are you? What spell?”

     “I am an angel of the Lord,” Cas answered formally. “Never mind about the spell. I have it. Dean?”

     Dean nodded and told him, “Give it to Charlie and Kevin to get started on as well. I’ll call you when I leave for the hotel.”

    "I have refilled your holy water flask and put more in your trunk. I have also distributed it to the others for their watches,” Cas offered generously then disappeared from sight while the others blinked in disbelief at the flasks that suddenly appeared in their hands. Only Scott, Allison and Stiles didn’t have a flask in their hands.

    “How in the hell do you get used to that?” Stilinski demanded irritably once he got over the magical flask.

     Dean scoffed, but it was hard to tell if it’s with amusement or lack of amusement. He ignored the question then turned to Derek and inquired impatiently, “Are we done here?”

     "You tell me,” Derek answered easily with his arms still crossed over his chest. “This is your job.”

     “Whose watching who?” Dean checked curiously. 

     “I got Stiles,” Stilinski stated firmly.

     “I got Allison,” Argent announced firmly.

     “I got Scott,” Issac offered, only to have Dean shake his head.

     “No go, Curly,” Dean argued adamantly. “He already has a huge beef with you concerning his ex. Ethan? Aiden? Either of you up for watching the pup? Probably need both, actually.”

     “I’m not a pup,” Scott growled irritably.

     “Of course not,” Dean allowed patronizingly, “you’re a cub.

     "Why can’t Derek watch him?” Aiden asked curiously.

     Derek arched his eyebrow at the question but Dean answered for him, “Because Derek has a different job to do tonight, plus Scott and Derek don’t get along to begin with. That would be like having me watch the little . . .”

     “Dean,” Derek warned with some amusement and a lot of exasperation, even as Scott growled angrily.     

     “What? It’s true,” Dean snapped irritably. “Don’t bother denying it.”

     “Fine,” Derek allowed flatly. “What’s my job?”

     “After I talk to Cas,” Dean evaded vaguely. “Got to verify some facts first and a counter to work on.”

     Danny piped up, “Ethan and I will watch Scott tonight with Aiden and Lydia. When are we supposed to hunt if we are all on watch duty?”

     “We’ll set something up tomorrow,” Dean replied easily. “After we review everything again.” He looked at Derek and verified again, “Ready?”

     Derek narrowed his eyes thoughtfully then nodded as he analyzed logically, “Stiles, Scott, and Issac have my phone number so the others can get my number if they need help tonight. What about Cas? Can they call him?”

     “Only as a last resort,” Dean allowed reluctantly. “He really should be doing something else instead.”

     “Then why isn’t he?” Stilinski countered sternly.

     “No clue what to do next,” Dean replied honestly. “Haven’t found the answer to that issue yet, unfortunately, but still working on it. So, if the water doesn’t work, call Derek first unless it’s life or death. Clear?” Everyone nodded in agreement so Dean motioned for Derek to leave first.

     As he left, Dean passed by Deaton and warned firmly, “Don’t disappear on us. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

     Deaton nodded solemnly then countered solemnly, “I have no idea who you are but I’m not going anywhere. Just so you know, there is no counter for the spell cast.”

    “We’ll see about that,” Dean asserted firmly then left the house in Derek’s wake.

\------------------ SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

_(Sorry but I really couldn’t channel Becky very well, probably because I really find her obnoxious. Hope it wasn’t too bad.)_


	9. Past Surprises

Dean followed Derek out of the house and down the walkway to his baby. He called out as he angled into the driver’s side of the Impala while Derek climbed into the passenger side and held out the keys to Dean. “Cas, we’re leaving.”

Dean put the keys into the ignition and started his baby up. The Impala rumbled to life but Dean and Derek could still hear the sound of feathers beating the air, signaling Castiel’s arrival. He appeared in the back of the Impala as Derek glanced back and Dean checked the rear view mirror.

Castiel sighed heavily then greeted solemnly, “Hello, Dean. Derek.”

“Uh, hello, Cas,” Derek returned the greeting uneasily.

“What’s news?” Dean cut in abruptly as he pulled away from the curb and on to the street. “Oh, yeah, direction?”

“Continued on this trajectory for five miles then turn north,” Cas directed briskly. “Kevin believes, as you do, in regards to the arch but he also told me that Crowley translated his translation and that it stated that Metatron’s spell was irreversible. What makes you so certain that he is lying?”

“Hello,” Dean snarked sarcastically. “King of Hell, formerly King of the Crossroads, not lying? Yeah, like that could ever happen. That asshat couldn’t tell the truth, especially the whole truth, to save his life. I bet you money that he now knows exactly how to stop it and will use that knowledge to his advantage, if he ever gets free.”

“Why would he open Heaven for angels?” Cas countered dubiously. 

“In return for favors,” Dean hypothesized easily. “Or for help with eliminating Abaddon, Knight of Hell. Or any number of other reasons that are known only to him because I don’t really want to analyze the SOB any more than I have to.” 

He exhaled heavily and ran a hand over his face then muttered to himself, “So sick of Hell and all of Hell’s creations. Still have way too much contact with that place.”

He shook himself and redirected lightly as he turned toward the north, “So was that all? How long do I head north?” 

“North for fifteen miles then turn east for five miles,” Cas recited before he answered the former question. “There is another problem.”

“Of course, there is,” Dean muttered cynically. “What is it?” When Cas didn’t respond immediately, Dean glanced into the rear view mirror again and saw the angel staring intently back at him, like Cas was waiting for his full attention. “Cas?”

Cas demanded abruptly, “How many angels have you taken grace from?”

Dean blinked in surprise at the sharp question then shrugged uncertainly, “Don’t know. Didn’t exactly keep track. Why?”

“Four the first time,” Derek reported briskly. “One the second time.”

“You cast that spell more than once!” Cas exploded angrily.

“No!” Dean denied automatically then grimaced uncertainly as Cas hissed his name in warning. He cut his eyes to Derek who was glaring at him then finally admitted abashedly, “Maybe. Hell, I don’t know. The second time I remember doing the chant but nothing else so I have no idea if it worked or not. Or, even if it could work, since no prep was done for it.”

“Whatever.” He dismissed abruptly, knowing they wouldn’t see eye-to-eye about this, then demanded irritably, “What the hell does it matter anyway?”

“It matters, Dean,” Cas drawled out irately, “because I only have the grace of two angels at the most within me. If you pulled the grace from three other angels, where did that grace go? Because I know it would have destroyed you if it had stayed within your body. You may be a vessel for a powerful arch but you could not contain all that grace without the help and knowledge of that arch. So, my question to you is, did you say any name other than mine?”

Dean stared back into the steely bright blue eyes that were trying to see into his soul for a moment then snapped irritably, “How the hell should I know? The whole freakin’ thing is a blur to me. All I remember is the chant each time. Next thing I’m aware of is waking up with people yelling at me. Not like anyone ever thanks me for this shit or anything,” he trailed off, grumbling to himself.

“He said, ‘Gabriel,’” Derek related. “Both times.”

“Oh, crap,” Dean cursed with dreadful resignation. “No. Hell, no. Please don’t tell me . . . wait, he’s dead. Right? Damn. Cas, could this spell . . .”

“How would I know?” Cas snapped back irritably. “You are the one who cast this spell before it was even fully translated. We still have no idea what it can, or can’t, do, much less what it will do, especially to you. Only thing that I know for certain is that the grace did go somewhere else.”

“Well, are there any other angels named . . .” Dean suggested hopefully.

“No,” Cas interrupted pointedly. “Father made sure that we all had different names. There is only one Gabriel.”

“Thank God for that, at least,” Dean snarked bitingly under his breath.

Cas shot a surprised glance through the mirror while commenting with equal shock, “I never thought I’d hear you thank my Father for anything.”

“Do you blame me?” Dean bit out weary cynicism.

Cas exhaled heavily before he acknowledged sadly, “No, I do not, but now I need to go.”

“Indiana?” Dean checked with resignation, remembering the place where they had last seen Gabriel alive.

“Yes,” Cas confirmed before he added as he checked their position. “Your final directions are two miles south then fifty feet in a northwesterly direction. Your wolf will sense it by then. I shall return.” 

Dean grunted in acknowledgement. They both heard the fluttering of feathers, signaling Castiel’s exit, before Dean caught it. He barked out into the air after his friend, “What the hell do you mean, ‘my wolf’?” 

Derek glanced at Dean’s frustrated glare before he quickly turned away. He didn’t want Dean to catch his amused smirk. There was a long moment of silence before Derek finally questioned curiously, “Gabriel?”

Dean shook his head while compressing his lips tightly before he finally barked suggestively, “Read the freakin’ books. He should be in a few, at least. Damn dickhead.”

“Okay,” Derek drawled out, making a mental note to check back on the website, but first verified, “So just search the books for Gabriel?”

Dean frowned slightly then scowled and amended irritably, “No, search for the freakin’ Trickster. Know we met up with the dick at the Brower County Mystery Spot, Springfield University and somewhere in Ohio. Enough about that asshat. We are close to where Cas said that you could start to sense it so can you sense it?”

“Sense what, Dean?” Derek prodded with exasperation, really wishing he could keep up.

“Magic, damn it,” Dean huffed with frustration, wishing desperately for this day to end, even though he was certain that he had some really bad night terrors headed his way. “We are looking for the source of energy that powered the spell and is attracting new creatures to the area.”

“What new . . .” Derek started to ask, only to be shut up by Dean’s glare. Derek rolled his eyes and muttered irritably, “We wouldn’t have to go through this if someone was more open to sharing.”

Dean smirked slightly and reminded Derek pointedly, “I’m pretty sure I’ve shared a helluva lot more with you than I have with anyone else.”

Derek rolled his eyes again then shook his head over Dean’s mercurial mood swings. He drew in a deep breath then exhaled forcefully. He looked at the passing scenery of winter bare trees when he felt the hair rise all over his body. He frowned thoughtfully then told Dean, “Turn left here.”

Within ten minutes, Dean pulled his Impala parallel a clearing that contained a huge stump of what should have been an enormous tree. He searched the area for any sign of creatures or anything else that might surprise them. He frowned and quickly looked over at Derek as the soft, heartfelt “No” reached his ears.

Derek opened his passenger car door in a daze then stumbled out of the car and moved forward as he searched the area for confirmation. He heard Dean get out of the car as well but ignored him while he continued to search. He spotted the caved in area and moved to the area carefully, spotting the wooden doors not far away.

“No,” he denied again, even though he knew he was wrong. 

Dean stepped up next to him and pried with curious dread, “What is it, Derek?”

Derek hung his head to collect his thoughts so Dean pulled out a flashlight and moved forward to look into the caved in hole. He squatted down and leaned forward to see more of the area. He narrowed his eyes to focus on what appeared to be carving in the roots growing under the stump, if the stump was still alive.

He barely heard the shifting of dirt, signaling the danger, before Derek yanked him back by the collar of his coat and snarled angrily, “Are you trying to die for a third time today?”

“Well, you know how they say, ‘third time is a charm’,” Dean commented back with wry humor, only to be met with the wolf’s ferocious glare. “No,” Dean snapped back irritably and shrugged off the wolf’s hand. “I’m trying to figure out what the hell has you so freaked, considering you won’t answer me.”

“Now you know how it feels.” Derek bit back then he exhaled heavily and glanced back at the hole. He relented with resignation, “It’s just that this is a place that I never wanted to see again. And, to know that it . . .” He trailed off and shook his head slowly before he huffed out a humorless laugh, “They always say your past will come back to haunt you but they never say it’ll . . .”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Dean interrupted sternly. “What past? What are you talking about?”

“My eyes, Dean,” Derek reminded him dully as he sunk down to one knee while he stared into the dark hole. “The color of my eyes.”

Dean frowned thoughtfully for a moment then sighed heavily as he remembered what Derek had told him about that. He squatted down beside the sad wolf and prodded gently, “So this is where it happened. Want to tell me about it?”

Derek huffed softly then responded wryly, “Not really but it’s part of your research now, isn’t it?” Dean made a slight motion with his head that seemed more affirmative than negative, if it really said anything at all. Derek barely nodded then started with vague hesitance, “High school sweetheart. Sophomore year. She hated me then . . . you know how it goes.”

“Yea, I know,” Dean offered softly with a memory of his own. 

“So, since we thought it was forever, and she knew . . . about me, the real me,” Derek continued hesitantly. “She wanted . . . that forever. I wasn’t an alpha and my pack alpha wouldn’t but there were other willing alphas in the area. So . . .”

“One bit her,” Dean concluded easily. “And?”

Derek grimaced slightly then glanced over as he informed him with emotional detachment, “The bite doesn’t turn everyone, Dean. Sometimes a body fights it.”

“So her body fought it and . . .” Dean prodded patiently.

“And,” Derek sighed heavily as though the words were an unbearable weight on him. “It’s a long, agonizing death.” Dean nodded in acknowledgement then waited for the end with uncharacteristic patience. “She . . . it got to be too much. She begged . . . for what seemed like hours . . . she begged while I held her and tried . . . but there was nothing. In the end . . .”

Dean didn’t say anything because there really was nothing to say. He could fill in the blanks as well as anyone. He had questions, of course, but he wanted to wait until Derek got himself back together.

“Jen . . . the Darack said that it was that act, my act of murder, a virgin sacrifice, that gave power to the Nemeton, this place. That it was that power that saved her life after Kali attacked her and left her for dead. Said that we were bound together because of it,” Derek related softly.

“She wishes,” Dean snarked harshly. “Look, I get it. I get that you think you’re responsible for what she did when she turned evil but that’s a bunch of crap. All you did was make a normal teenage mistake. Yea, it cost you more than normal because it had bigger consequences. But the . . . Darack? Well, she chose to do what she did and that wasn’t on you at all. That’s not your fault and neither is the spell.”

“Dean, I . . .” Derek countered with building anger.

“You did your girlfriend a mercy, Derek,” Dean reaffirmed forcefully. “That’s all that’s on you, except the bite, if you had something to do with that. The rest is on everyone else. That creature could just as easily done good with what was given her. Instead, she chose to do evil with the power she gained. **_She_** chose, Derek. That had nothing to do with you.”

Dean saw that Derek was still set on arguing so he tried a new tact. “Look, I get it and understand. Seriously, I feel you, but you got to put this in perspective.”

“How can you possibly . . .” Derek snapped out irritably.

“Because I’ve done worse,” Dean snarled out harshly. “You want to get on soap boxes and trade sob stories? Well, I can call your Darack and sacrifices then raise you a freakin’ Apocalypse that killed much, much more.”

“Excuse me?” Derek clarified with disbelief.

“Just shut up and listen because I’m only going through this once,” Dean ordered firmly. “Look, I know you talked to Becky. Did she give you a run down on everything?” 

“More of a very slanted gloss over,” Derek amended abruptly.

“Figures. But you know what happened with the psychic kids in that ghost town?” Dean questioned succinctly.

“Sam died but then you sold your soul,” Derek growled irritably. “You got sent to Hell, Dean.”

Dean exhaled heavily as he dropped his head to stare at the ground. He inhaled a long breath then related softly, “Yea, I got strung up before I was even aware the dogs had stopped ripping me apart.”

“Dean, how does this . . .”

“Just listen,” Dean snapped out harshly. “This shit ain’t easy so obviously there’s a point to it.” Derek paused then nodded in acknowledgement. “So . . . well, saying Hell is . . . well, Hell doesn’t really do it justice. There aren’t words to . . . but I was on the rack for over thirty years. Each and every day spent being ripped to shreds in ways that . . . only to be remade and start all over again. At the end of each ‘day’, they’d put me away on the hooks and make me an offer. I could get off the rack if I took over the torture of other souls, if I ripped them apart like I’d been ripped apart so many times.”

Dean paused as he took a steadying breath then continued with a hitch in his voice, “But after thirty, I . . . I . . . broke and . . .” He stopped again with a long exhale as he looked out into the night and scoffed softly, “You’d think that Hell would do the worst to you but it wasn’t until I got out that I found out. When I broke, I didn’t just let my family down. I broke the whole damn world. Ain’t that some shit. Like everything I went through down there wasn’t enough.”

“I don’t . . .” Derek started uncomprehendingly.

Dean turned his eyes back to the wolf, knowing the wolf could see the wetness of them and for once not caring. He explained slowly, “The way Cas explained it is to think of the door holding Lucifer back from the world being held together by locks. Break all the locks and Lucifer walks free. Only to get to those locks, think of one master lock that has to be broken first, before all others, or nothing happens.”

“Okay,” Derek prodded to show that he understood so far.

Dean leaned forward slightly then admitted with enormous shame and regret, “I broke that master lock the second I put my razor to a soul in Hell. After that, they all . . . there was no . . . all because I was weak.”

Derek stared in shock as Dean continued to talk, almost to himself, “I still don’t understand why that stupid winged bastard still saved me after it all, all I had done, but he did. Said I had work to do and that I had to stop it since I started it.”

“Since we’re still here, I assume you did,” Derek commented encouragingly.

Dean scoffed cynically, “Yea, sure, if you call allowing your little brother to take the fall for you, like literally fall into Satan’s Hell box for you, stopping it, then go me. No. It was just another crock cooked up by the angels. They didn’t need me, except to guide Sam into that position.”

Dean shook himself then glanced at Derek as he stood and repeated solemnly, “My point is that I do understand. More than you know. So put it in perspective and deal with the rest.” 

He wandered off toward the stump, anxious to put distance between this ‘caring-and-sharing’ moment and himself. He called out over his shoulder, “Why don’t you make yourself useful and check out things below while check out things up here? Unless you want to switch?”

“No,” Derek answered easily, rising to his feet. “I got it. What are we looking for again?”

“Recent activity, a body, fresh blood,” Dean recited briskly as he searched with his flashlight. “You know, supernatural type of stuff.”

“Sounds more like CSI than supernatural to me,” Derek observed dryly then jumped down into the hole.

Dean approached the huge stump and commented wryly, “Must’ve been a bitch to cut this sucker down.”

“Seriously, Dean?” Derek called out.

“What?” Dean argued firmly. “It had to be. Have you seen the size of this? Must be from the Jurassic period or something. Know what it is?”

“Oak,” Derek replied from underground. “Looks like the parents were held here since there are ropes but not a lot of blood.”

“Hey, can you get a pic of the symbols on that root down there?” Dean asked curiously, knowing Sam would want to research it and it might give them a clue of what to do.

“I’ll try but it might be better in daylight,” Derek answered contemplatively.

“Yea, I have a feeling that we’ll be back tomorrow,” Dean muttered distractedly as he leaned over to look at what appeared to be fresh grooves in the stump. He frowned thoughtfully, trying to figure out a pattern. The grooves appeared to be in a circular pattern like spokes on a wheel. There were seven of them which made him roll his eyes as he realized he was probably dealing with a cult. Seven being one of the mystical numbers that religions/cults liked to use.

He was so wrapped up in his analysis that he didn’t hear the footstep near him until it was too late. He swung around with his Colt 1911 ready and pointed it at the closest woman to him. He narrowed his eyes in thoughtful recognition then checked with disbelief, “Kate?” 

“Winchester,” the vampire hissed and snarled angrily at him while the other female vamp pulled Kate back. 

“And the hits just keep on coming,” he muttered to himself. Talking about the past coming back to haunt someone. He’d revisited his past more times in this one day than he had in the past three years, at least.

“No, Kate,” the other vamp warned darkly, “you know what our father said about him.”

“I. Don’t. Care,” the vampire snapped irately and threw the other vamp off her. “You have the wrong gun, hunter,” she sneered triumphantly.

“Still good enough to keep you busy while I get the real one,” Dean dismissed cockily and shifted slightly, calculating exactly how far away the Impala was and what his chances were of reaching it safely. “Are you really in that much of a hurry to find your mate? What was his name again? Luther was it? Yea? He was a real winner.”

Kate screeched in rage and pounced on Dean, pinning him to the tree. He managed to keep his gun and used his other hand to grab her neck. He tried to roll her over but her strength was too much for him and she was overpowering both of his hands. He clenched his jaw and redoubled his efforts to force her off of him.

In the next instant, she was gone and Derek was in front of him completely wolfed out. The vampire and werewolf snarled at each other as they faced off. She took a step forward that was quickly copied by Derek who growled menacingly at her.

Dean got to his feet and looked for the other vamp to find her with four other males watching from the sidelines. “Crap. Looks like we fell into Twilight and Team Jacob is nowhere in sight,” he commented sarcastically then inhaled slowly, preparing for a very nasty fight, then checked the distance to the Impala once again. He wouldn’t make it in time, he knew. He questioned Derek softly, “Do you know how to kill them?”

“A stake? In the heart?” Derek checked uncertainly which caused Dean to glance down and see the branch Derek had picked up.

“Just my luck, bringing a werewolf to a vamp fight,” Dean sighed heavily, “No. You have to completely decapitate them.”

“Good to know,” Derek replied solemnly while he prepared to attack. “I’ll do that afterward.” 

Dean rolled his eyes and reminded Derek sarcastically, “Did she really look like she was alone? You’re not going to have the time, dude.”

“Says you, hunter,” Derek replied easily while Kate grew tired of waiting and took the chance that Derek was distracted with the conversation. 

She flew at the wolf with super speed, only to have the wolf bat her in the face with the stick. She fell to the side and landed on the Nemeton, braced on her hands, but her head still hit the Nemeton. It didn’t even faze her. She glared up at Derek and growled angrily before she was yanked away by her hair. 

Both Dean and Derek prepared for more combatants as the largest male vamp launched itself toward them, landing by Kate’s semi-prone body. He yanked Kate up by her hair but then surprised them. Instead of helping her up, he threw her into the arms of one of the other males in the group before he turned toward them and warned tightly, “I would love to help her rip you to pieces but our Father has given orders.” He turned to toss a hard stare at Kate who was still glaring but otherwise restrained before looking back. “Orders we _must_ obey, as you well know, Dean Winchester.”

“And what exactly were the big bad Alpha’s orders?” Dean wondered caustically.

“That he, and he alone, will have the pleasure of ripping you to pieces after he drinks all the blood from your lifeless corpse,” the lead vamp hissed with hateful pleasure.

Dean, seemingly unmoved by all this, nodded thoughtfully then taunted back with a smirk, “Right back at him. Except the drinking blood part ‘cuz that’s just gross.”

The lead vamp glared with a hateful sneer, “We’ll see who comes out on top in the end.”

“Hey, I’m always on top, buddy boy,” Dean argued hotly. “Just tell me where precious daddy is and we’ll settle this.”

The lead vamp eyed him contemplatively for a long moment, almost like he might have been communicating with the Alpha, then denied discourteously, “Another time.” With that, he motioned the others and they all disappeared into the night.

Dean exhaled slowly with relief while Derek, now completely human, turned and asked sarcastically, “Friends of yours?”

Dean scoffed with weak humor and mock humility, “Yea, you know, how it is. Everybody wants me.”

“Yea, sure,” Derek dismissed cynically. “You just keep telling yourself that. Are we done here? Or do you have more blasts from the past planning on showing up?”

“Like I know,” Dean smarted off caustically. “Yea, we’re done for now but we’ll probably have to come back up here tomorrow. By the way, when’s the next full moon, wolfen?”

Derek rolled his eyes at the taunt before turning and following Dean to the car, “Tomorrow night. Why?”

“Of course, it is,” Dean retorted cynically as he angled into the car. Derek got in the passenger side while Dean answered clinically, “There were signs of possible cult worship which means . . .”

“The ceremony will probably take place tomorrow?”

“Yatzee,” Dean congratulated automatically and started the car then backed up to drive out the way he came.

“Thought the term was Bingo,” Derek commented vaguely.

Dean shrugged then crowed proudly, “I’m an original.”

“So you keep saying,” Derek teased dryly. “What’s the deal with the vamps?”

Dean shrugged again, “Oh, you know, my dad killed her mate way back when. You can read about it. Apparently their kind mate for life so she’s kinda got it bad for Winchesters, like most of the world.”

“And the daddy comments?” Derek prodded mercilessly.

Dean grimaced slightly then admitted ruefully while rubbing the back of his neck nervously, “Oh, you know how it is. Become a vamp once and they never let you forget about it, no matter how many of those blood suckers you kill.”

“Excuse me?” Derek verified incredulously, once again.

“What? Stuff happens,” Dean snapped out defensively. “I got better. Took the cure. Didn’t know there actually was one until then but, hey, you learn something every day. Right?” 

Derek rolled his eyes and commented to himself, “And I thought my life was complicated.”

Dean scoffed humorlessly, “You have no idea. But, like I said, Alpha Vamp, aka stepdad, apparently never forgets, or lets me forget. Plus, I kinda piss him off a lot by, you know, killing his other kids, stealing his food that he keeps because they are freakin’ children who actually have families out there looking for them.”

“Now when you say Alpha . . .”

“It’s not like yours,” Dean denied quickly. “Alpha Vamp is a father of his entire species. He’s the first ever vamp and he created all the other little vamps running around everywhere.”

“Then who created him?” Derek questioned curiously.

Dean rolled his eyes then redirected impatiently, “Does it really matter? I mean, I don’t mind the history lesson but not right now. We have a lot of work to do and need some sleep before we get started.”

“Whatever.” Derek grumbled discontentedly then countered firmly, “One more question, though.”

“Fine,” Dean sighed heavily. “What?”

“You do remember that you weren’t on top at all last night, right?” Derek taunted cockily.

Dean felt blood flood to his face and somewhere much lower at that remembrance as he snapped out with hardly hidden embarrassment, “Shuddup.”

Before he could even try to calm himself down and come up with a better comeback, he felt the wolf’s warm, hard body slide next to him and warm breath ghosted over the sensitive skin of his neck. He shuddered slightly and tried to stamp down his arousal. He knew that he had failed as the wolf whispered softly into his ear.

Derek smirked cockily when he sensed what Dean was trying to do and told him quietly, “If being on top means that much to you, I’ll let you climb on top of me.” He inhaled the sweet scent of arousal that Dean was unconsciously emitting. 

He smiled wider when the human squirmed under his assault and reminded gently, “I can sense what you are trying to do, Dean. You can’t hide what you’re feeling from me. I can smell your arousal every time it hits. You’ve been turned on most of the time you’ve been around me today and it’s very hard for my wolf to ignore when you are so obviously ready for me.”

“I’m not . . .” Dean tried to deny with an even voice, despite his increased heart rate. He knew he was failing miserably at keeping his breathing under control. Hell, he wasn’t even sure why he was fighting this after . . . 

Derek’s lips tasting the skin of his neck along with the slight touch of the wolf’s tongue resulted in more shivers and an unconscious moan slipped past his throat without his permission. His jeans were cutting off circulation around his very hard erection. He couldn’t explain why but he could not fight this anymore. For some reason, this wolf always seemed to blow through his defenses to the point that he couldn’t remember why he was fighting this attraction to begin with.

He turned his head slightly and Derek easily caught his lips in a fiercely dominating kiss. He groaned with frustrated confusion as he tried to keep an eye on the road while all he really wanted to do was grab the wolf and . . . He so needed to pull over.

However, as soon as he thought that, the wolf jerked away and was back on his side of the car before Dean could ask why. Dean opened his mouth to question the wolf when he also heard the flutter of feathers in the air then Dean knew why. He glanced at the wolf who smirked back at him before he glanced into the backseat through the rear view mirror and met the deep blue eyes of his best friend.

“Cas,” Dean greeted easily, trying for distraction to cover up what he feeling seconds earlier.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas returned with his normal tone. 

“So what’s news, Cas?” Dean prompted distractedly. 

            “I could find no trace of Gabriel, or the Trickster, anywhere in the vicinity,” Cas reported clinically. 

            “So he’s still dead?” Dean confirmed summarily.

            Cas cocked his head slightly before he reiterated firmly, “I said I could find no trace of him, Dean. **_No_** trace.”

            “As in,” Dean drawled out slowly, finally understanding what the angel was saying and not saying, “not even his remains. But, wait, that was . . . what . . . over four years ago so would his remains even still be there?”

            “Every time an angel, especially an arch-angel, dies, it leaves a permanent cosmic mark,” Cas explained slowly. “There should have been something left even now.”

            “So, wait, do you mean to tell me that over inflated dickhead faked his death again then ignored all the crap that followed, especially you and good ol’ Ralph?” Dean growled out angrily at the hypothesis he was coming up with.

            “I do not know, Dean, but I did check the site before I returned to Heaven,” Cas related earnestly. “It did not appear faked at all then so I am unsure how to interpret all of this. But we have an even bigger problem.”

            “Of course, we do,” Dean replied with weary resignation. “What is it now?”

            “Metatron,” Cas bit out with resentment. “I sense that his thoughts are turning to me. He has felt something . . . I don’t know how to . . .”

            “What? Did he sense a disturbance in the force?” Dean prodded sarcastically.

            “Yes. Exactly,” Cas agreed wholeheartedly, not really getting the reference but it seemed to fit somehow. “That’s an excellent way to describe it. I feel that he will come and check on one of us soon. Since he cannot find you due to the sigils . . .”

            “You need to pop back over to your area Quicky Mart and get your sales associate on,” Dean surmised easily. “Got it. Will you be able to hide all the grace you have from him?”

            “Mostly,” Cas hedged uncertainly. 

            “Mostly? Mostly!” Dean exclaimed incredulously. “That’s not good enough, Cas. If he gets a clue before we can surprise him . . .”

            “I am aware,” Cas snapped out firmly. “I’m well aware of the dangers posed, perhaps even more than you.” He paused a moment then suggested hesitantly, “If it is acceptable to you, I could possibly hide some of the new grace in our bond, the one that I reforged earlier today. I can definitely hide it all that way, if Metatron decides to . . . visit.”

            Dean inhaled deeply and relented reluctantly, “Yay, sure. If you have to. You going to give me some kind of sign or something first? Wait. Wait. Hold it. I thought I couldn’t hold on to it without . . .”

            “Fluctuating it within the bond will keep it from completely residing inside you at one time,” Cas elaborated vaguely. “It will oscillate between us and that will aide me in hiding it. As for warning, I doubt I will be given enough time for that. But, if I am convincing enough, we will not have future problems as you are **_not_** casting that particular spell anymore.”

            “Broken record, Cas,” Dean snapped back irritably.

            “Fine, _Benny_ ,” Cas retorted in kind. “Which reminds me, are you going to tell Sam?”

            “Tell Sam what?” Dean replied innocently.

            “You know, Dean,” Cas confirmed firmly.

            “Know what?” Dean continued in the same vein.

            Cas huffed irritably, “Fine. Have it your way, as you always do. But you know this will come out eventually, no matter how much you try to hide it. It always does. At that time, it will be twice as bad when he finds out that hid this from him. Also, you might want to warn your wolf in advance if this is how you are going to play it. You know as well as I, he will be the one to take a majority of the heat from it all.” With that warning, Cas disappeared with a flutter of wings.

            Even so, Dean snarled out with frustration, “What the hell does that mean? Cas! Get your ass back here, damn it!” He paused for a second and didn’t hear what he wanted so he threatened caustically, “I’m going to kick your feathery ass if you don’t come back here pronto. Cas? Damn it! Hate that shit!”

            Derek sighed heavily as he tried hard to hide his amusement over his friend’s outrage. He knew what the angel was insinuating but, if Dean wanted to be oblivious, then so be it. He finally ordered softly, “Dean, calm down. All of us know that you know very well what he was talking about.”

            “What do you mean?” Dean growled irritably, happy to redirect his frustration on to another target. 

            “He means are you going to tell Sam about the spell . . . and are you going to tell him about us?” Derek explained patiently because he was actually curious about the answers himself.

            “What do you mean us? There is no us. What the hell did you tell Cas while I was out?” Dean demanded impatiently. “Did you two exchange ‘bonding’ stories or something?”

            “Notice how you completely ignored the spell part.” Derek observed dryly then answered blandly, “I didn’t tell him anything. Just like I didn’t tell any of the others anything but other wolves can smell our scents all over each other which makes it all pretty obvious to them. And they are all teenagers who talk way too much. Especially Stiles.”

            “No joke,” Dean popped off automatically then he exhaled heavily and debated with himself for a moment. Finally he answered emotionlessly, “I can’t say anything about the spell because I really don’t know any more about it than anyone else. And, yeah, Sam’ll be just as pissed as everyone else that I cast it unknowingly but I can handle that.”

            Derek read between the lines and remembered Dean’s earlier phone conversation with Sam, especially the way Dean warned Sam about the wolves, then concluded uneasily, “It’s not only the forever thing you’re avoiding. What’s he going to do?”

            “I don’t know,” Dean sighed and glanced away from the wolf before staring out at the road again. Finally, he summarized clinically, “In Purgatory, a vamp named Benny saved my ass more times than I could count. He also showed me and Cas the way out. Of course, he got something in return and I brought his ass out with me to call it even, only it wasn’t. I still owed him. Anyway, we parted ways but then he call after a couple of months needing my help. I left Sam alone with research and went to help Benny, alone. Sam found out and got pissed so he had Benny tailed from then on, looking for any excuse to . . .”

            “Kill him,” Derek ended correctly. “You’re afraid he might do that to me.”

            Dean bit his lower lip slightly before he nodded and agreed softly, “I don’t want to give him any excuse, Derek. Plus . . .” He trailed off uncertainly.

            Derek didn’t say anything for a moment but he knew what Dean was wrestling with because he’d had some of the same thoughts so he finished for him, “You still aren’t sure what this is yet. You think it’s still . . .”

            “No,” Dean interrupted abruptly. “No. I know it’s not that. Are you still wondering?”

            “No,” Derek agreed firmly. “I know but it’s still . . . Look, obviously I get the reservation, I really do.” He paused for a moment then asked curiously, “What happened?”

            Dean frowned for a moment, having lost track of the conversation for a moment, then verified after he backtracked, “Benny?” At Derek’s nod, he winced slightly then reported hesitantly, “A tri . . . case sent Sam into Purgatory with no way back so . . . I asked Benny for help.” He glanced over and saw that Derek was confused by that so he elaborated somewhat, “See, all creatures go to Purgatory when they die. All creatures. Humans, or rather souls, go up or down, but all other things . . .”

            “Go to Purgatory,” Derek confirmed solemnly that he was keeping up then he caught on. “You asked Benny to let you kill him.” 

            Dean nodded and rubbed his hand over his face. “Yeah, I asked him to go back there and bring my little brother out but I wanted them both to come back. Took his entire body to the meet place where they’d come out even, fully planning on putting him back together, but . . . he . . . Sam said he wanted to stay.”

            “You believe him?” Derek wondered curiously.

            “Mostly,” Dean allowed softly. “Benny had mentioned more than once how much easier it was there. And it was. Even though it was constant Fight Club like 24/7, it was still easier. No shades of grey. No thinking. Just instinct. Kill or be killed. Yeah, it was easier.”

            They both were quiet for a long moment before Dean cleared his throat slightly then prodded emotionlessly, “We are getting close to town. Need to give me directions to your place so I can drop you off.”

            Derek scoffed humorlessly, “Don’t have one, unless you want to leave me at the newly remodeled family home.”

            Dean gave a slight smile in remembrance then defended cockily, “It worked, didn’t it?”

            “You call that working?” Derek countered incredulously. “If that’s the case, I’d hate to see a plan that didn’t work.”

            Dean smirked cockily then redirected pointedly as he noticed a motel sign coming up on the road, “Okay, since you don’t have a place, do you want me to drop you off with creepy . . .”

            “No,” Derek stated adamantly. “We are going back to your hotel.” He paused and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully as he verbalized aloud, “Only you don’t remember how to get there, do you?”

            “Hey, you get teleported through an unfamiliar town and see how your direction sense is,” Dean snapped defensively. Derek cocked a disbelieving eyebrow which had Dean growling, “I don’t have wolf senses, damn it.”

            “Which is why you need me,” Derek cajoled lightly.

            “Oh, is that it? I was wondering,” Dean taunted sarcastically with an eye roll.

            “Oh, you were, were you? Let me remind you,” Derek replied in kind then, in a blink of an eye, he was back in Dean’s personal space, against his side. He leaned into kiss Dean’s neck again. He inhaled Dean’s addictive scent and was rewarded with the tinge of arousal in it. He latched on to Dean’s neck and sucked in the sweet skin to nibble on it. 

            Dean sucked in his breath at the first press of hot wolf against him again. His eyes automatically tried to close but he fought them, not wanting to wreck his baby. He cautioned huskily, “Derek.” Only to have the wolf suck on his neck in that special spot that always got him hot and horny in no time flat. He cursed softly as he moved a hand up to grab the wolf’s hair then he yanked the wolf’s mouth away from his neck. He drew a shaky breath that was cut off by the wolf’s mouth closing over his and a dominating tongue thrust into his. He moaned with pleasure and gripped the wolf’s hair tighter, causing Derek to growl slightly. 

            Dean yanked his head away and checked the road as he panted hoarsely the order, “Derek, stop. Driving here. And how exactly does the previous conversation get this kind of reaction out of you?”

            Derek completely ignored the last inquiry. He so wasn’t going to let Dean know that he planned to make the most of this night since it was apparently going to be their last, possibly forever, depending on what Sam did, or didn’t do, as well as what other events from this hunt wrought. Instead, he questioned seductively in Dean’s ear, “Are you telling me you’ve never done this before, Dean? No hot girl’s ever gotten you all hot and bother on the drive back to the motel? Seriously?”

            “It’s different,” Dean hissed weakly at the nip of teeth on his skin where his shoulder meets his neck. 

            “What’s different?” Derek prodded in a whisper. “The brush of stubble against yours? The stronger hands holding you in place? Or the fact that my wolf completely dominates your ass, literally?”

            “Fuck,” Dean muttered hoarsely then cleared his throat to ask a question but Derek interrupted with the promise, “Count on it.”

            “No way, dude,” Dean argued hotly. “It’s your turn to take it up the ass.”

            Derek pulled back slightly to grin evilly but explain patiently, “Wolves are predators, Dean. We obey the law of might so, if you want my ass, you have to take it from me.” With that, he allowed his wolf to flash its blue eyes at the hunter before forcefully kissing the hunter again.


	10. Is It Any Surprise?

When Dean had to yank away from the wolf’s addictive mouth again to check his bearings and suck in some oxygen, Derek grabbed the top of Dean’s jeans with his claws and yanked hard, ripping the material and fasteners away. “Hey, watch it, wolf boy! Those were my favorite jeans,” Dean complained hotly, only to swallow his groan a second later when the wolf’s hot hand slipped inside his boxers and encircled his rock hard erection. Derek’s other hand ripped open the boxers so that there was nothing in the way of his prize. 

“Fuck.” Dean swore softly as his head dropped back to the head rest and his eyes closed halfway. They stayed open just enough for him to watch the road. He was so turned on that he was already trying to calm down his arousal. Of course, Derek wasn’t helping him at all with his problem, considering he apparently had a serious kink for the fierce, forceful domination of Derek’s assault. It had him on edge ever since it had begun. 

Actually, if he was honest with himself, Derek was right. He knew for a fact that just being around the wolf today, in addition to the memory of all their activities last night, kept him half hard most of the day. Hell, Derek’s scent was driving him crazy right now, especially combined with Derek’s current proximity. 

            Derek slowly slid his hand up then down Dean’s hard, throbbing cock once before squeezing slightly at the base, causing Dean to groan. He directed firmly into Dean’s ear, “Take this road for two more miles then turn left. Drive for five miles then you will find the motel on the left side of the road. Do not wreck us between here and there.”

            That was all the warning Dean had before wet heat enveloped his leaking cock as Derek swallowed him down. “Holy shit,” Dean cursed in surprise then panted while his legs fell open automatically, allowing Derek all the access he wanted. He felt Derek’s tongue travel a path up one side of his cock then down the other. It licked a path back up then traced around the underside of the flared head of Dean’s cock that leaked pre-cum onto its waiting tip. The tongue appeared to like the taste as it proceeded to lap up all that was on the head then stab at the slit, attempting to coax more of Dean’s cum out. 

            Derek’s hand joined the fray as it slowly but forcefully twisted and squeezed the base before it followed the mouth that moved up and down the shaft. All the while the tongue teased Dean’s cock slit and the nerves centered under the flared head. He felt Derek suck hard after a forceful twist at the tip and knew he wasn’t going to last long. 

            He barely registered whether he was headed in the right direction while he breathlessly tried to retain control of his body which seemed more than willing to listen to this wolf instead of him. Derek and his awesome mouth made him feel so great that he wanted this to last, damn it. But as he fought his eyes against rolling into the back of his head, he barely made out the motel lights up ahead.

            He pulled into his parking spot, slammed on the brakes and threw his baby into park just in time to grab the wolf’s head and press it down on his cock while he pressed his hips up and his world exploded with white hot sparks. He felt his cock pulse out hot jets of cum down the wolf’s throat as his body sagged with the latent relief of a really good orgasm. His hands loosened their hold and, unconsciously, gently smoothed the tangled strands of soft black hair down into place. His muscles and cock twitched one last time then Derek slowly pulled up off of his oversensitive dick, licking it clean as he went. “Damn,” he sighed bonelessly.

            Derek checked Dean’s face and smirked at the dazed, glassy eyed expression on the hunter, thinking that was the best expression he’d seen on the hunter all day. He leaned over and gripped the hunter’s jaw, forcing his mouth open, as he kissed Dean deeply, sliding his tongue against the hunter’s in a foreshadowing motion before mapping out the rest of his territory once again, which didn’t seem to ever get old for Derek. Or, at least, not yet.

            He felt the hunter lazily submit to his domination then felt when the hunter tasted himself on Derek’s tongue. Dean jerked and tried to pull back slightly in uncertain surprise but Derek wouldn’t give him an inch and forced Dean to accept the taste of himself and his wolf’s wishes. When Dean finally submitted and lazily moved to taste Derek’s mouth which held even more of Dean’s taste in it, his wolf was happy and slowly pulled away. 

            Dean let out a shuddering breath as his half-closed green eyes met glowing blue. He drew another shaky breath before he questioned softly, “What do you do to me? Why the hell is this so much better . . .”

            “Does it matter?” Derek wondered curiously before he leaned over and opened Dean’s car door. He turned back to check the hunter’s answer which was Dean grabbing his face and pulling them both into another kiss, only this time, Dean licked his way into Derek’s mouth which had his wolf rumbling with approval. After a few minutes, Derek yanked away and ordered impatiently, “Out of the car, Dean. Now.”

            Dean shivered slightly then nodded and moved to close the tattered remains of his clothes but Derek pushed him off the seat, not allowing him that time. Dean stammered, obviously flustered, while he tried to keep his feet under him, “Wha . . . wait, damn it.”

            “No,” Derek hissed in his ear as he climbed out after Dean and grabbed the hunter’s hands, pulling them behind the hunter’s back. He pressed himself against the hunter’s back, knowing that Dean could feel his hard erection with his hands that way, which Dean did with a shudder of pleasure. He let Dean’s hands cup his taut, hard groin while he looked down over the hunter’s shoulder. He could see Dean’s cock becoming half hard again in the open, cool air where it was sticking out from his long over shirt. He smiled slightly before nipping Dean on the ear to get his attention and warning him softly, “If you want any chance at all against my wolf, you need to have everything out and ready to go. Don’t cover up that nice _little_ cock of yours.” He shut the car door and moved Dean to the motel room door.

            “Little?” Dean grumbled irritably as he was shuffled forward. He sluggishly searched for the key until he felt Derek press him against the motel room door. He shivered at the temperature difference between the cool door against his sensitive semi-hard cock and the heat of the wolf behind him. He continued to grumble as he heard Derek put the key into the door lock, “All cocks are little compared to your giant wolf cock that knots people’s asses.”

            “Only you, Dean,” Derek promised easily while he opened the door and shoved Dean inside. He made sure that Dean didn’t fall as he stumbled forward into the room. He shut and locked the door before he pounced on the hunter’s back, pressing Dean face down into the mattress. 

            “Now, wait a damn minute,” Dean objected hotly after turning his face away from the mattress so that he could breathe then he put everything he had into bucking Derek off of him. He barely got any air under him. “No fair using surprise attacks and supernatural strength.”

            “Don’t forget post-orgasmic befuddlement,” Derek reminded him cockily as he leaned over and nipped Dean’s ear before kissing Dean’s neck. He reached up and grabbed Dean’s jacket collar.    

            Dean seriously fought against Derek’s hold while he snapped out angrily, “Whoa, whoa, wait a damn minute, you impatient pup. I can’t afford to lose anymore clothes.”

            Derek smirked slightly and let go of the collar but observed dryly, “You do know that you actually fought harder for your clothes than your ass virginity. Right?”

            “Shuddup,” Dean mumbled irritably, his face flushing bright red over that truth, then turned over because Derek allowed it. 

            Derek continued to smirk until his lips once again captured Dean’s. He licked Dean’s lips open then lazily coaxed Dean to respond which he did enthusiastically. He made quick work of both of their clothes until they were both naked. He pressed his hips down on to the hunter’s, causing both of their hard cocks to slide against each other. He swallowed down Dean’s moan of pleasure. 

            Dean yanked his head to the side, gasping for oxygen, as Derek’s mouth easily turned its attention to Dean’s sensitive neck. Dean groaned with frustrated pleasure while Derek lit up every nerve in his body again. He felt Derek suck in the sensitive skin then nip it with just the right amount of almost pain. He unconsciously moved his hips up against the wolf’s heavy groin, feeling his once again fully erect cock slid against Derek’s heated erection.

            He couldn’t believe how easily this wolf could get him aroused again. He hadn’t had this kind of reaction time since high school. But this wolf seemed to get him hot and hard, no matter what else seemed to be going on. Hell, just the wolf’s scent was enough to get him ready. He seriously needed to get a handle on this addiction. 

            The wolf’s hot mouth blazed a path down Dean’s neck, past his collar bone and easily captured his sensitive nipple. Dean automatically arched off the bed, pressing his chest into that warm pleasure giving mouth, as Derek sucked the pert bud into his mouth. His tongue flicked over it before tracing a path around the dark areole then flicking the bud again. 

            Dean moaned with increasing pleasure while the wolf’s suckling shot pleasure-filled pulses into his throbbing groin. He arched and twisted as his hands dove into the lush black hair of his tormentor. He clutched handfuls of the soft curly strands but he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to pull the mouth closer or push it away. 

            His needy cock dripped with pre-cum in response to his intense arousal. It was like a fever had taken a hold of him. He didn’t know why it seemed to get more intense every time he was with Derek but he did know that he was in the wrong position for this to play out right now.

            At that thought, he took a steadying breath then grabbed the wolf’s shoulders and rolled them over so that he was on top. Derek resisted at first then let it happened. Dean couldn’t help the smug smile as Derek pulled back and looked into the hunter’s eyes with his wolf’s glowing blue eyes.

            It was almost like the staring matches he had with Cas, only those didn’t turn him on like the ones with Derek did. Those didn’t make him so hot that he felt like his blood was boiling beneath his skin. Those didn’t make him wish . . . for . . . no, there was no forever. But there was tonight and that was all that he was going to think about.

            Dean leaned over and forcefully attacked the wolf’s mouth. He captured the wolf’s lips which quickly parted for the hunter. There was the brief clanking of teeth before Dean thrust his tongue into the wolf’s mouth.

            A serious heavy metal guitar riffs interrupted the pleasured moans that had filled the room and caused Dean to huff irritably into Derek’s mouth. He pulled away reluctantly and released the wolf. He shoved his body off the bed and onto his feet while he mumbled heavily, “I have to get that or he’s going to be even more pissed tomorrow.”

            He searched through his jeans quickly and pulled out his phone, answering it right before it went to voice mail. He cleared his throat and asked instinctively, “Sammy? You okay?”

            “Sam is fine, Dean,” came the deep, stiff response on the other end of the line.

            Dean immediately stiffened his posture and turned away from Derek. He stalked into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, effectively keeping Derek out of hearing range in his mind. He replied cautiously, “Ezekiel. What’s wrong with Sam?”

            “Nothing is wrong with your brother, Dean,” Ezekiel promised solemnly. “He pulled over to spend the night in a motel which was the most reasonable thing to do since he still needs to heal. He at least knows how to take care of himself. Mostly.”

            “Speaking of, how much longer is this going to take?” Dean demanded impatiently.

            “You know how bad off he was when we started this, Dean,” Ezekiel evaded vaguely. “It does not speed up the healing process when you two take these hunts and are constantly getting injured.”

            “I also know it’s been months,” Dean snapped back irritably. “So how much longer, damn it?”

            “I don’t know. What does it matter as long as he’s healed in the end?” Ezekiel prodded with too much interest.

            “I want my damn brother back,” Dean exploded hotly. “That’s why it matters. I don’t like this and I don’t like keeping this from him.”

            “I’ve explained . . .”

            “I know what you’ve explained,” Dean bit out as he interrupted irately. “That doesn’t change the facts. Now if he’s okay, why did you call?”

            “I wanted to make sure that you remembered our arrangement,” Ezekiel answered forcefully. “Your promise to me. You do remember that, do you not, Dean Winchester?”

            “I remember,” Dean confirmed emotionlessly while he tightened his grip on his cell phone. He so was not going to think of this right now. He wasn’t actually going to think of this ever, or until he could no longer avoid it.

            “I hope so,” Ezekiel intoned solemnly. “Because it’s your little brother’s life that’s at stake. We both know how much that means to you. That also means that you had better be taking care of your body as well.”

            “Right,” Dean returned sarcastically, unable to help himself. “Because it takes so much out of a body, you know, becoming an angel condom.”

            “You gave your word,” Ezekiel reminded him impatiently. “That included anything that might make your body . . . uninhabitable.”

            “What the hell are you talking about?” Dean prodded heatedly. “I haven’t  . . .”

            “It means, Dean, that if you do something to make it impossible for me to enter it when it’s time, then your little Sammy is dead. Considering how worried Sam is about you right now, I feel it’s necessary to point this out. If I don’t have your body as an alternative, I will never leave your brother. If you find a way to forcefully expel me, I will kill Sam, and you. I hope all of that was perfectly clear as I will not repeat myself again,” Ezekiel promised solemnly before he hung up on the hunter.

            Dean lowered the phone and exhaled heavily while he sank back against the bathroom wall. He unintentionally caught his reflection in the mirror and stared for a long moment into the weary eyes of an aged hunter who’d seen way too much in his lifetime. He scoffed cynically at that, knowing he’d outlived his natural life too many times to count. He ran a hand over his face and let his head fall back against the wall while he tried to figure out what to do next. God, he was so very, very tired of all this.

            Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it, his mind automatically went to the lone wolf in the other room. He was way too weary to actually figure out that aspect of his life right now. All he knew was that Sam was coming into town tomorrow which meant that . . . 

            Dean yanked the bathroom door open and charged across the room, slamming into Derek who had sat up during his absence. The wolf let out a painful grunt as he fell back onto the bed, glaring up into the older hunter on top of him.  Dean didn’t give him any time to question him.

            He leaned over and their mouths clashed as they kissed each other hungrily. He tasted blood but wasn’t sure if it was his or Derek’s. He was sure, however, that one of them had busted their lip in the clash.  That didn’t stop them from drink in each other’s scents and tastes.

            This time Derek yanked his head away and whispered reverently, “Dean, what . . .”

            “Yay,” Dean responded distractedly, taking his turn to kiss his way down Derek’s neck. He left the phone where it fell onto the bed as sucked on one of Derek’s sensitive spots that he remembered from last night. He pressed his hips down on Derek’s, sliding his erection against Derek’s, while his hands moved over the firm chest of his . . . wolf.

            His consciousness quickly dismissed the other term that his subconscious had growled out into his mind. He’d allow the possessive term but nothing else. One night was nothing, he firmly reminded himself, steadfastly ignoring the fact that this was way past that one night. 

He mentally shook his head and focused only on giving same pleasure that his wolf had repeatedly given him. If this was their last night together, he was so going to make it a night to remember. All the things he’d been thinking of doing to this wolf were definitely happening tonight, just in case . . . No, he wasn’t going to think on that any more than he had to because it hurt a hell of a lot more than it should.

            He captured one of Derek’s nipples into his mouth and sucked it into his mouth as Derek had done to him. He lapped at it gently while his other hand rolled the other tender nub between his finger and thumb. The wolf under him arched into his mouth and he sucked harder while he pressed their hips into each other, rubbing their erections together.

            “Dean,” his wolf panted breathlessly under him then growled hotly, “come here. Want to taste you again. Have to.” 

            Dean glanced up at his glowing blue eyes and lightly scraped his teeth over the pert bud in his mouth, causing Derek to buck up more forcefully than normal. Dean swiftly lifted up and corrected his balance so that he could stay on top but the wolf grabbed his hips and pulled Dean forward.  Dean took advantage of the new position which had him straddling Derek’s chest close to the wolf’s face and rubbed his wet cock head against the wolf’s lips. He saw Derek’s eyes light up at that so he pushed his erection between Derek’s cum soaked lips. The wolf opened willingly and Dean pushed his erection further into the warm wet cavern of pleasure.

            “Oh, God, Derek,” Dean whimpered hotly. “So good.”

            Derek opened his eyes and locked the hunter into his heated gaze while he licked and suck on the hunter’s thick cock. He felt Dean’s cock leak pre-cum into his mouth and moaned with pleasure around it. He loved the taste of his hunter who pressed his cock deeper into Derek’s throat while Dean moaned with pleasure as well. Derek smirked slightly around the thick cock in his mouth while he continued to blow the hunter’s mind, through his cock. 

            With the hunter distracted, Derek moved one hand from the hip it was clutching. He slid it around and over Dean’s perfect butt cheek then allowed his index finger to traced down the crease in between. He felt the hunter automatically clench his muscles slightly in response as the finger lightly taunted the tight circle of muscles which was still partially open from their previous night’s activity. He frowned slightly at the wetness that was there but figured that Dean had prepped himself while he was in the bathroom. He probably just missed it while he was eaves dropping on the disturbing conversation. 

            His finger easily slipped into the now relaxed hunter’s body, causing Dean to moan deliciously and thrust his hips so that his throbbing cock was even deeper in the wolf’s throat. Derek moved his finger deep into the hunter’s body, noticing that it increased the hunter’s pace in his mouth. He withdrew his finger then thrust two into Dean’s willing hole. 

            Above him, his hunter groaned and moved more forcefully while he prepped the hunter for his knot once more. Even though he was willing to let Dean have him, he was going to have the hunter as well. He had to, especially if this was their last night.

            “No,” Dean grumbled in denial, even as he grounded down onto the fingers deep inside him. He almost hated himself for how much that particular thing turned him on. It didn’t fit with what he knew about himself but, at the same time, he couldn’t deny how much his body craved this, this wolf, and his huge . . .

            “No,” Dean growled irritably while he pulled his cock out of Derek’s mouth. “Don’t want to come this way. Not this time. Want . . .”

            “Know what you want,” Derek cajoled with seductive promise. He quickly lifted up Dean slightly and moved him back so that Derek’s cock head slid against Dean’s prepped hole. 

Dean whimpered with indecision as he felt his hole clench and was consumed by the emptiness in it. He was better than this but then again he reasoned logically, “My turn next.”

“Yeah, Dean,” Derek promised huskily. “Your turn next. Now, let me give you what your body craves.” He felt Dean take part of his weight which allowed Derek to let go with one hand and hold his cock steady. He didn’t even have to help as Dean slowly slid down the enormous pleasure giving pole. They both moaned aloud with delicious pleasure at the sensations.

“Damn, Dean,” Derek hissed with soft amazement. “So tight. So wet. So good.”

“Fuck, Derek,” Dean groaned with a bit pain in his pleasure. “So freakin’ huge. Fills . . . God . . . fills me up . . . so much. Damn.”

Dean’s wet warmth encased his cock all the way to the base before the hunter stopped moving. For a moment, Dean sat motionless on the wolf’s hips, slightly breathless, staring at him with half closed emerald eyes. Derek reached up and grabbed Dean’s neck then yanked the hunter down for another deep kiss. 

The hunter responded eagerly and kissed Derek back with equal passion then started flexing his internal muscles, eliciting another moan of pleasure from the captive wolf. Derek automatically pressed his hips up in return, burying his cock as deep into the hunter as he physically could. In response, the hunter’s muscles tightened around the wolf again.

“Damn it, Dean,” Derek groaned with frustrated arousal after he yanked his head away from the consuming kiss. “Move!”

Dean smirked mockingly at him then shifted his hips in a circular type motion, causing Derek to growl threateningly. Dean mocked lightly, “What’s a matter, sour wolf? Afraid I’ll sit here all night? Not get you off? Leave you wanting?”

Derek cocked an eyebrow at Dean’s smirking face then pressed his hips up at the same time he pressed down on Dean’s shoulder. Now Dean groaned with frustrated pleasure but resolutely kept still while he yanked Derek’s hand off his shoulder. Dean growled lightly, “I’m on top, wolfen, so I’m in control, not you. Got that?”

Derek narrowed his eyes in warning but allowed reluctantly, “Got it, grumpy.” Dean arched an eyebrow at that which caused Derek to elaborate mockingly, “Face it, Dean. You are the grumpiest young man I’ve ever met.” 

“Says you,” Dean snapped back weakly, unable to come up with a better come back. 

Without warning, and with werewolf speed, Derek sprung up into a seated position and latched on to one of Dean’s sensitive nipples. He sucked it into his mouth and stabbed at it with his tongue before lapping at it teasingly. He held on tight as Dean arched and jerked in reaction. 

“Shit,” Dean hissed and cursed when his arousal spiked. “Damn. Fuck.” 

Derek let out another pleasured moan as he felt Dean lifted his hips up before slamming back down onto Derek’s hips. He unconsciously gripped the hunter’s hips tighter in reaction with his claws. He heard the hunter hiss softly in pain but Dean kept up his purposeful rhythm while Derek continued to suckle and tease the hunter’s nipples, drawing even more pleasured noises and curses from Dean. 

“Damn, Dean,” Derek observed breathlessly against the hunter’s wet nipple, causing the hunter to shiver with delicious arousal. “Your nipples are so sensitive. Your body is so tight. Hot. Wet. Better than any woman . . . Damn . . . love . . .”

Derek sucked the other nipple into his mouth, feeling Dean jerk and buck on him in reaction. He stabbed his tongue at Dean’s nipple then flicked it teasingly. He could feel, sense and smell how much it turned on the hunter. He couldn’t help but think aloud, “I’ve never seen anyone love someone sucking on their nipples like you do. Bet you didn’t know it either. That your nipples were this sensitive. Almost like you’d love someone to suck on them all the time. Almost as much as you love my knot.”

“Would you like that, Dean?” Derek questioned with seductive curiosity. “Someone to suck on you while they knot you. Someone like me.” Dean ground down harder with his hips in reaction which caused Derek’s knot pop as he hissed at the painful pleasure. “Dean.” 

Derek glanced up then saw Dean’s pupils were blown and dilated with increasing arousal. He wasn’t sure if it was the talking or the sucking or everything at once. His curiosity got the better of him so he reached one hand up and grabbed Dean’s hair. He yanked the hunter’s head to the side, baring Dean’s neck to Derek’s wolf who growled excitedly at the willing submission. 

He gently scraped his teeth down Dean’s neck, enjoying the pleasured whimper that escaped the hunter. He smiled slightly and moved his hips in time with Dean as they continued their dance. He could tell the hunter felt his knot at Dean’s groan but it didn’t slow Dean’s ride down at all. He felt Dean’s cock bounce, twitch and leak out more of Dean’s seed on to Derek’s abdomen, covering Derek with Dean’s scent, which Derek’s wolf found entirely too hot. 

Dean moved down Derek’s cock, stopping right at the top of his knot, but Derek didn’t allow him to avoid what was going to happen. He pushed Dean down, feeling Dean’s muscles give in to the pressure. He counseled confidently, “That’s right, Dean. Take my knot. You know you can. You know you want it. Remember how good it feels inside you when I’m pumping you so full of my cum.”

Dean moaned in response and lifted off the wolf’s knot, feeling the delicious pull at his rim, before he slammed himself down on Derek’s hips again, this time not slowing down. Derek gave a slight smile and commented softly, “That’s right, Dean. Take it. Take it all. Ride me. Let me knot you and fill you so full that you’ll never stop feeling me inside you. You’ll never forget the feeling of it. The taste of it.”

Dean groaned with painful pleasure at the knot that kept popping in and out of him. He panted breathlessly while Derek explained huskily, “Remember the purpose of knots, Dean. Why they happen? They are meant for breeding. For making babies. Babies that suckle on nipples.”

Derek groaned with pleasure when he felt his knot lock Dean to him. Dean tried to pull up again but he couldn’t move more than a few centimeters. Derek felt Dean’s rim pull tight against his knot and had to add with animalistic satisfaction, “Feel that, Dean? I’m breeding you right now. If you were a woman, your belly would be filling up with babies. Can you imagine it, Dean?” His hand brushed against Dean’s leaking cock head as he rubbed his hand against Dean’s stomach. “Full of babies, Dean? Imagine what that would feel like? Imagine your stomach stretched tight, full of my cum then our babies?”

Dean moaned weakly as he felt something, something new, new white hot pleasurable sensations swirled within him while Derek’s words seduced him. Not that he’d ever, ever wanted to be a woman, much less pregnant, but a family, his own family, a baby that wouldn’t grow up in three days and come to kill him. Children that he could teach things to, like baseball, fishing, soccer . . . and Derek.

The wolf managed to touch a chord within Dean that he steadfastly refused to acknowledge. That he did want those things. He really, truly did. He always had. He wanted them so badly sometimes in the dark of the night that he ached with it. And that ache rose up so large within the hunter now that he felt he could choke on it. But he knew deep down that it could never be. After all, look at what happened all the times he’d tried it. 

“No,” he whimpered with empty brokenness but it was only a word when his whole being was caught up in the illusion Derek created and was added to by the feel of Derek’s cock twitching inside him.

“Yes,” Derek rasped out the counter and grabbed Dean’s hips as he moved the knot within the hunter.

“Fuck,” Dean cursed hoarsely as the knot slammed into his hidden pleasure spot and he felt his muscles automatically flex and tighten around the huge bulbous cock. He shuddered and swirled his hips tightly around Derek’s cock, instinctively searching for the proper rhythm to help his body release its pent up pleasure. He growled unconsciously with frustration, “Damn it, Derek, bite me.”

“If you insist,” Derek responded tightly before he clamped his teeth down on Dean’s neck, right at the juncture of his neck and shoulders. He didn’t pierce the skin, not believing that the hunter wanted that type of bite. Dean knew better, after all, and it was something that they’d both agreed upon.

            Dean tensed slightly under him but continued to cant his hips rhythmically. He tried to reach down and grab his own cock to help himself out but Derek slapped his hand away, growling into his shoulder. Dean shivered and whimpered under his mouth then growled back, “Harder. Damn it.”

            Derek started to pull his teeth back to warn him that any harder and he would pierce the skin but he didn’t get the chance. Dean grabbed Derek’s head and pulled down at the same time he pushed up hard from the knot. The pain caused Dean to hiss but the combination disrupted Derek’s thought process and he bit down instinctively to hide the pain. 

            The taste of his hunter’s blood sent Derek over the edge which to Derek was sick, but his wolf reveled in it. As did his cock apparently, considering it erupted a second later. He felt his come gush from his cock, painting his hunter’s insides once again. He growled and groaned into the bitten shoulder that his teeth were still in while his muscles tensed and released in the ebb and flow of his climatic orgasm. Vaguely he felt Dean’s inner muscles do the same. In fact, Dean’s muscles seemed to be milking all the seed they could from Derek’s cock, like Dean’s body was starved of it and needed all it could get to survive.

            Dean suddenly lurched up and arched away, causing Derek’s teeth to tear more of the skin before he could retract his teeth. Dean gave a climatic shout of ecstasy and gave a final delicious shudder then sagged bonelessly against the wolf, trusting it to keep him upright. Derek easily caught him while he blinked in confusion. He reached down and confirmed his suspicions before he gently shook Dean.

            “Dean, wake up,” Derek ordered firmly, having a hard time drawing his eyes away from his teeth marks in the hunter’s bleeding shoulder. “Shit,” he cursed violently then shook the hunter again. “Dean, damn it, wake up.”

            Dean groggily looked up at him and Derek sighed heavily at the slightly glowing eyes of his lover, “I think we’re in trouble.”

            “You didn’t do it right,” Dean slurred out the accusation while he attempted to blink away his disorientation.

            Derek arched his eyebrow then questioned with confusion, “What the hell do you think I didn’t do right?”

            “Have to do it again,” Dean continued distractedly without explaining anything. “Until we get it right.”

            “What the . . . Dean? Oh, crap, we are definitely in trouble,” Derek quickly concluded when Dean’s eyes shined with specks of glowing white as Dean launched himself at the wolf again.


	11. Unwelcome Surprise

“Wake up, Dean!” A harsh voice barked closely into his ear. He felt the warm breath ghost over the side of his face and groaned in frustration then grumbled in slurred response into his pillow without opening his eyes, “’ive ‘ore mun . . .”

            He didn’t even take the time to attempt to identify the voice’s owner or worry of its intentions. He was that freakin’ sleepy. He curled tighter around his pillow and exhaled slowly. He willed himself back into the cool calmness of dream land where nothing was after him for once and he was at peace with everything. It was the only place that he could possibly be at peace with everything.

            “Damn it, Dean,” the insistent voice returned forcefully and added physical movement as it gripped his right shoulder and yanked him over on to his back.

            “Damn it, back off, Sa . . .” Dean griped automatically with a raspy voice before his brain woke up enough to catch up to his mouth. His eyes flew open as he amended with the visual confirmation, “Uh, Derek.” He ran a hand over his face then peered up at the irritated wolf and reflexively went on the defensive. “What the hell? What’s the emergency?”

            Derek’s eyebrows flew up and his green eyes widened in surprise at the attack before he scowled and repeated irritably, “What’s the emergency? The emergency is that I’ve been trying to wake you up for the past two hours. Your five minutes has played out several times over. At least your eyes aren’t glowing anymore.”

            Dean grumbled in response, “Oh, please. You just now tried to wake me up and it wasn’t even five minutes ago. What the hell do you mean, ‘at least, my eyes aren’t glowing’? My eyes don’t glow, Cujo. That’s your thing, not mine. And get the hell off me.”

            Dean shoved the wolf off of him and swung his legs over to sit up on the bed. He was surprised that he wasn’t in more pain than he was, considering he felt like they’d had yet another marathon sex session. He wished he could remember all of it, not that he’d relived them during the lonely nights ahead of him, or anything remotely like that. After all, he wasn’t a woman. But, still, he’d like to have all the memories because . . . yeah, well, he just would, damn it.

            He glanced back and griped hotly, “You see how tired you would be if you didn’t have that supernatural healing crap that you stupid wolf people have. You’d better bet your ass that you’d be tired, too. Oh, and, hey, what the hell happened to taking turns, like you promised?”

            “Well, I would have,” Derek sniped back acidly, “if you hadn’t jumped my bone each and every time we took a breath, insisting that we still hadn’t done it right.”

            “What the hell does that mean?” Dean shot back acidly with unsettling confusion and wariness, considering he didn’t remember any of that. “How the hell did we do it wrong?”

            “Have no clue,” Derek scoffed testily. “Your body acted like you orgasmed each time but you didn’t come every time. In fact, the times that you didn’t come seemed slightly painful for you but your eyes were glowing white each time so I’m not sure if that had anything to do with it or not. I’m guessing that Cas was using your bond during those times since they kinda looked the same as when you cast those spells. Am I right?”

            Dean scowled with increasing frustrated confusion and in the end all he could do was repeat vaguely, “My eyes were glowing . . .” He paused then caught the ending and hissed irritably, “Wait. Cas? Damn it. Yeah, yeah, I remember now. It started during the first time and, damn, did that add to it but I’d rather keep that just between us. His sense of timing still seriously sucks. Always has. Even after being human. Somewhat.”

            “Do we need to contact him?” Derek wondered aloud, despite the fact that he really didn’t want to. He also wanted to keep things just between them. But he’d learned to be a realist the hard way and he knew realistically they weren’t meant to be.

            “No,” Dean decided firmly. “No, if he hasn’t made contact with us, it could be because Metatron’s not convinced. Signaling him might tip the asshat off. No, we’ll wait unless we have an emergency.” 

            He stood up slowly and stretched without concern of his current state of undress. He felt his wolf’s eyes drinking in the sight. It was a sensation that he was very familiar with but all the creaks and pops as his bones realigned detracted slightly from the mood. Damn, did he feel old.

            He shrugged it off mentally and scratched his head while he shuffled to the bathroom, asking curiously, “Heard anything from the kids yet?”

            “No,” Derek answered easily and rolled out of the bed then stretched as well. He walked over to the bathroom door frame and leaned against it as he watched the hunter, waiting for the inevitable explosion. He wondered aloud what the plan was as Dean finished with his business, flushed then brushed his teeth.

            “Deaton,” Dean stated around his toothbrush. After he spit out the toothpaste and rinsed, he added, “We need to figure out a way to counter that spell. If there is one.”

            “You’re not sure,” Derek hypothesized uncertainly. “Why?”

            “Call it a hunch right now,” Dean evaded vaguely. “If it pans out, I’ll explain. If not . .  .” Dean trailed off as he glanced in the mirror to check his reflection for toothpaste and the possibility of a shave. He frowned slightly when he spied two separate ridge sets of teeth marks, seriously reddened but not bleeding or scabbed, before he cautioned shortly, “You need to watch the teeth, Cujo. Getting close to signing our death warrants.”

            “Yeah, about that . . .” Derek started uneasily in a low voice.

            Guitar riffs sounded in the room again. Dean ordered, “Hold that thought.” Then he frowned and wondered aloud because he honestly couldn’t remember at the moment, “Where’s the hell is my phone?” 

            “I’ll get it,” Derek offered with a sigh, knowing the other conversation should probably wait until Dean had at least had his coffee, as he turned and walked back into the main room.

            Dean followed behind and riffled through his travel bag in his search for clothes. He sensed Derek close to him before he saw the phone thrust into his field of vision. He mumbled his thanks as he pushed the answer button on the touch pad. He didn’t know the number that had been displayed but he was in a new town with unknown parties. He answered easily, “Yello?”

            He found some boxers and jeans while he listened to the response which was, “Dean?”

            “Yeah,” he answered tightly as he pulled on his clothes then searched for his normal t-shirt and an over shirt. 

            “It’s Argent,” the voice informed him briskly. “The sheriff and I were wondering if you could come down to the morgue.”

            _Why is it that no one ever asks me out for a steak dinner? Or, hell, breakfast even?_   Dean wondered cynically to himself. Or, at least, he thought it was to himself but a glance at Derek made him wonder in light of the slight smirk displayed on the wolf’s face.

            “Dean?” Argent prodded curiously, reminding Dean that he hadn’t actually answered the other hunter yet.

            “Yeah, sure, what’s up?” Dean questioned curiously. “Is it urgent?”

            “Could be,” Argent evaded mysteriously then prodded pointedly, “How long?”

            “There goes my shower,” Dean mumbled under his breath then lowered the phone to ask Derek the same question when Derek answered his unasked question, “About twenty minutes away.” Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise but went with it for the moment, considering he had Argent on the phone.

            “Is there somewhere to pick up food on the way?” Dean verified hungrily.

            “Yes,” Derek responded abruptly while he got dressed as well.

            Dean moved the phone back up to his mouth and told Argent, “Give us thirty.”

            “Us?” Argent replied suspiciously but Dean just hung up and slid his phone into his pocket. He quickly dressed despite the comment, “I really should take a shower first.”

            “You smell fine to me,” Derek offered truthfully from his position by the door.

            “I bet. Not helping, Fido,” Dean grumbled sarcastically under his breath, now knowing exactly what the wolf was talking about, while he quickly armed himself, including his Colt in his jeans and the angel blade in jacket sleeve holster, and then packed all of his stuff into his bag. 

            After one last glance around the room to make sure he got everything, he shouldered his duffle and followed the wolf out of the room. He unlocked his baby’s trunk and tossed his bag in before heading to the office to check out. He didn’t really need to check out but he wanted to stay as close to his story as possible because Sam was always great at picking up on Dean’s lies.

He returned to his baby to see Derek leaning casually against the side of it and, no, his heart did not skip a beat, only to beat faster afterward. He wasn’t a freakin’ girl, damn it. No, sir, he sure as hell wasn’t but he could honestly admit in a completely straight guy kind of way that this wolf was hot. 

Crap, he really should have taken a shower, he cursed mentally as he felt warm liquid seep out a bit from a part of his body that really shouldn’t be doing that. Except it was because of last night’s activities. 

“So, what motel are you switching to?” Derek asked curiously while he walked around the Impala to climb into the passenger side. 

“Probably the one on the other side of town,” Dean hypothesized easily while he angled into his baby. “It’s closer to the  . . . what was it called again? Nem . . . Nemo . . . something.”

“Nemeton,” Derek corrected.

“Whatever,” Dean dismissed airily while he backed out and inquired hungrily, “Which way to food?”

“Left,” Derek replied quickly. 

Dean turned accordingly while he prodded suspiciously, “Which reminds me, how did you know what I was about to ask you earlier? When I was on the phone with Argent.”

Derek glanced at him curiously before pointing out like it was blatantly obvious while he pointed to himself, “Wolf, Dean. Have wolf hearing.”

“Wolf hearing,” Dean repeated absently as he tried to assimilate what exactly that meant. He wasn’t coming up with much but then again he hadn’t had his morning cup of caffeine. He shook his head as he spotted a fast food drive through. He pulled in and ordered for both of them, making sure he got a large coffee. If his night’s kept up like they were going, he’d probably have to have it put into an IV to stay awake.

When they were on their way again, Dean prodded carefully in between bites, “So . . . wolf hearing means that you can hear the other side of phone conversations?”

Derek narrowed his eyes at his hunter while he chewed what was in his mouth. He knew where Dean was going to end up with this and he debated whether or not to let Dean know the truth, considering how much his hunter tended to hide from him all the time. But since he had several questions about last night’s phone conversation and he had a feeling that Dean would never tell him about it, he swallowed what was in his mouth then answered lightly, “Yes. We can hear that, especially if we are in the same room.”

“And if you’re not?” Dean pried uneasily. 

Derek glanced up and saw that they were at the hospital which gave him the evasion that he suddenly needed. “We’re here. Ready?”

Dean eyed him suspiciously before allowing the diversion, “Fine, but we _will_ discuss this later.” 

They grabbed up their drinks and finished off the rest of their food as they exited the car. Dean followed the wolf into the hospital entrance, taking in the scenery and people as he went, just like his father taught him. They were met right inside by Scott’s mother. 

They all nodded to each other briefly before she directed stiffly, “This way.” She took off down the left hallway followed by Dean. Derek trailed behind, also carefully taking in the surroundings. 

Dean glanced at the patients and staff that passed by until his eyes made contact with a female staff member wearing pink scrubs. She was really beautiful with bright green eyes and curly black hair that perfectly matched her Asian complexion. She was well built and just Dean’s type.

 They held eye contact as they passed each other and he could sense what she was going to do. He’d been through this sort of thing several times before. Normally, he welcomed this attention and, in fact, lived for it. But this time, he was filled with a sudden, weird, ‘bad’, ‘wrong’, ‘not right’ sense, like the ‘bad touching’ feeling that he got from that strange non-supernatural world Balthazar send him to.

At the last minute, he pulled his arm back behind him and out of her range of touch but couldn’t help staring at her after she passed. He noticed that she looked back as well with an almost crushed expression. Strangely, it didn’t move him, at all.

“Really, Dean?” Derek hissed irately into his ear, clearly informing Dean that he’d observed the entire interaction.

Dean glanced at him in vague confusion before looking back where the worker had been, but she was gone. He frowned heavily, wondering what the hell was going on with these ‘feelings’ which way stronger than his normal gut instinct. He wished he knew what it meant or that it would just go away, or both. His life was complicated enough as it was, damn it.

“Problem, gentlemen?” Melissa prompted impatiently at the two standing men. She was obviously waiting on them at the end of the hall with her hands on her hips. She looked like she was about to start tapping her foot any second now.

“Dean?” Derek prodded irritably.

“Oh, can it, Balto,” Dean sniped back in the same tone, not willing to discuss this right now. The damn wolf could have that answer when Derek answered his earlier question. He turned and easily caught up to Melissa with his long strides with a very irritated Derek following behind him.

Within a couple more turns, she pushed open the door labeled, “Morgue” and walked in. They followed and quickly spotted the sheriff and Argent standing by a covered corpse on the left hand side of the room, furthest from the door. There was another covered corpse on the first table but apparently they weren’t interested in that one.

Dean strolled over to the head of the corpse, taking another drink of his rapidly cooling coffee, before he asked curiously, “So what’s up this lovely California morning? Where are the kiddos?”

“School,” Sheriff reported briskly. “Where did you think they were?”

“Hmm,” Dean shrugged without concern. “Well, with all this going on . . . if they are anything like me, that’s the last place they’d be. But, of course, that’s where I’d always said that I would be, otherwise, dad would kick my ass.”

“What are you saying?” Melissa snapped irately. “Scott’s not skipping. He knows school is important.”

“Sure,” Dean agreed vaguely, and without an ounce of sincerity or conviction. “Yeah. Of course, it is. At least, it is for kids who don’t have the supernatural coming after them and continuously interrupting their lives. You know, the kids who actually have a chance at living a normal life.”

“Are you saying you didn’t go to school?” Stilinski demanded with disbelief.

“Of course, I’m not saying that,” Dean scoffed irritably. “Dad always told us how important it was. Tanned my hide and ranted about it more than once when he caught me skipping. It just wasn’t my thing. Not me, at all. It was more Sammy’s thing. He’s the smart one. Got a full ride to Stanford and everything. I . . .,” he shrugged nonchalantly. “I just had more important things to worry about.”

“What could possibly be more important than school?” Melissa snapped back irritably.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe . . . surviving,” Dean replied in kind. “The supernatural doesn’t have set business hours, you know. It’s not an extracurricular activity and it sure as hell doesn’t care if you have a test tomorrow while it’s trying to kill you tonight. Plus, there was always rent and food and other things that require money which doesn’t exactly grow on trees . . . hell, never mind. Doesn’t matter anyway. What have we got?”

Sheriff Stilinski arched an eyebrow at the quick change of subject before he pulled back the sheet, revealing a dead young woman with short red hair. There was distinctive bruising around her neck but nothing else obvious on her body. There were no autopsy cuts on her yet so Dean still wasn’t sure why he’d been called here.

“Suicide?” Dean verified clinically at first glance.

“Yes,” Stilinski answered tightly.

“So?” Dean prodded impatiently before taking another drink and wishing for his shower again.

“It’s the _third_ suicide in _this_ hospital this _month_ ,” Stilinski informed him with emphasis.

“So, way above your seasonal average, huh?” Dean clarified with interest as his eyebrows rose in surprise then he nodded in understanding. He questioned abruptly while he examined the body closer, “Where any of them really successful? Like overnight successes about ten years ago?” 

He walked around the body, taking it all in, while the others frowned over the questions. Finally, Stilinski denied with confusion, “No. They had normal jobs and were only admitted for normal problems. She was here for an appendectomy.”

Dean glanced at the surgical wound and commented to himself, “So, no demon deal.” He frowned thoughtfully as he walked back to his original position near the head, sucking down the rest of his coffee as he went. He set his coffee down on a countertop nearby then inquired, “She report anything strange? See anything strange? Hear anything?”

“She, well, she, yeah, she, uh, said that something was in the walls,” Melissa reported uncertainly. “She was also hearing whispers of something.”

Dean pulled some gloves on but glanced at her and prodded with intense interest, “What whispers? Like hearing the truth? The whole ugly uncensored, destroy-your-mind type of truth?”

Melissa’s eyes widened at the questions before she shook her head and told him, “I don’t know. As far as I could tell, she never understood what was being said.”

Dean exhaled with relief while he once again thought aloud to himself, “Okay, so probably not Veritas, thankfully. Good. Hated that creepy bitch and her creepy, freakin’ cats.”

“Veritas?” Argent questioned curiously.

Dean glanced over before refocusing on the corpse’s head. He reported clinically, “Truth goddess. If she’s summoned and anyone in the area asks for the truth, they get slammed with it until they finally kill someone, or themselves. She then feasts on their remains as tributes, and I don’t mean ‘Hunger Games’ type of tributes. But, you know, now that I think . . .”

He moved the head to the side and carefully moved the hair out of his way until he spotted it. “Crap,” he sighed with resignation. 

“What?” The sheriff demanded impatiently.

Dean glanced around then grabbed a pen out of Melissa’s scrub top. He ignored her gasp of indignation and carefully moved the pen into the hole. He encountered no resistance for the whole length of the pen. All those in the room leaned over to observe what he was doing. 

He exhaled heavily then informed them cynically, “Okay, gentlemen, you’re dealing with a wraith. It’s like a human but not. It pretends to be one of us because you can only see their true form in a mirror, or reflection. They like hunting in places like these because their prey is confined and generally not believed.”

“What do we look for?” Melissa demanded pointedly.

The sheriff and Argent tried to argue with her offer for help but Dean shot it down all together. “No, you aren’t going anywhere. In fact, Derek’s going to stay here and watch you.”

“I am?” Derek verified with dubious surprise.

“Like hell,” Melissa argued hotly. “This is my career here. If this is about me being a woman . . .”

“It’s about you working here,” Dean cut in caustically. “As far as I, and you, know you’ve already had contact with this thing and been compromised. They have the ability to make you see anything they want with a simple touch. They use that to get you stewing in your own juices literally because they love to suck that out of you.” He pointed to the hole in the corpse’s head. “They get the brain marinated in a bunch of chemicals for a day or two then they suck you dry. If you looked at the brain in her head, it would be a shriveled up piece of dried jerky.”

“What kills it?” Argent prodded briskly.

“Silver to the heart, like most things,” Dean reported in kind. “They have some kind of spike thing that is sheathed in their wrist. They use that to feed with so if it’s out and you break it off, be prepared for a brain juice shower which isn’t too fun and kinda stinks, like most things on this job.”

“Now,” Dean continued impatiently, ready for the hunt, “have either of you two been touched by anyone in here, as in skin to skin contact?” He directed the question to the sheriff and Argent.

“That’s why . . .” Derek started suddenly then trailed off.

Dean shrugged in answer, knowing what the wolf was about to say, then relented slightly, “Got a weird feeling from her. Something about her was too . . . I don’t know, maybe . . . perfect.” He shrugged again for emphasis.

“You saw it?” Stilinski questioned with amazement. 

“Not sure,” Dean evaded truthfully. “Could be but won’t know until I find it again. So who’s clean in here?”

“Why am . . .” Derek started again but Dean interrupted impatiently, “Because if it was her, she knows who I am and why I’m here, why we’re here, and she knows where the evidence is being kept along with the coworker that was leading us here so Melissa is the one in the most danger and needs the most protection. That’s you, Cujo.”

Derek arched his eyebrows and wondered hesitantly, “Are you leaving something silver with me?”

“Yeah, right, like you’d even be able to touch it, if I did,” Dean retorted meaningfully. “Besides I know how you like to sink your teeth into things so go with last night’s plan.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at the pointed taunt then verified tightly, “Decapitation?”

“Yatzee, Bingo,” Dean taunted mockingly, ignoring Derek’s warning growl over going with that particular dog joke. “That should keep it busy enough until we get here to finish it off.”

He refocused on Melissa and inquired seriously, “Is anyone else, patient or staff, reporting anything strange? Whispers? Movement in the walls?”

“Uh, I think there’s a lady upstairs in one of main rooms. I don’t remember the number,” she answered hesitantly. “I could answer that better if I could return to my computer terminal.”

Dean turned to the sheriff and questioned tautly, “Can you make it safe for her there, so that she’s not moving around?”

“Think so,” Stilinski replied confidently.

“Okay, handle that,” Dean ordered dismissively then checked with Argent. “Got silver?”

“Always,” Argent replied abruptly.

“Of course,” Dean scoffed sarcastically then glanced at Derek one final time before he spun on his heel and left the room with Argent trailing behind. He didn’t need Derek to wish him luck or tell him to be careful. Somehow, he felt it deep inside.

Once outside, he motioned with his hand and prompted abruptly, “After you, Argent. You definitely know this place better than me.”

Argent nodded then turned to his left, offering, “Elevators this way.” Dean fell in step beside him. After a couple of steps, Argent commented informally, “I hope you know what you are doing, Winchester.”

“Don’t worry,” Dean dismissed easily. “Ganked the last one. Will get this one, too.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Argent clarified meaningfully. 

Dean shot a glance over to him and quickly realized that denial would just eat up time they didn’t have so he bit out tightly, “That’s none of your business, Argent. You’ve got way too many other priorities right now to be wasting your time focusing on remote possibilities.”

“If you think it’s only a remote possibility, you obviously don’t know Derek Hale,” Argent growled out harshly. “You also don’t know squat about wolves if you’re ignoring the color of his eyes.”

“If you have something to say, spit it out,” Dean ordered tautly.

Argent stared at him a long moment before he tested tightly, “Do you even know what his eyes mean?”

“You have evidence, or names, or is this just based off of eye color?” Dean demanded as he swirled around to actually face the older hunter.

“Do you?” Argent countered irately.

“I know some, but obviously you have an issue, so either share or shut up because we have a hunt and I need to know where you stand before I give you my back,” Dean stated adamantly. 

Argent glared at him for a moment then reaffirmed tightly, “I have your back on this and any other hunt, until you give me a reason not to.”

Dean nodded in acknowledgement but was by no means satisfied. He knew he’d do his best not to turn his back on the hunter if he could help it at all. He turned and continued to the elevators with Argent by his side once again, his current resolve firmly placed in his mind. He pushed the upstairs button as soon as they got close enough then moved to the side to watch everyone passing by both with his eyes and with the mirrors that were mounted high at the corners. Argent stood next to him doing the same thing after observing Dean for a moment. 

At the ding, Argent glanced at the elevator and moved slightly to watch the doors open. Dean waited to turn when he heard the doors open. He watched in the mirrors as people exited the car. He narrowed his eyes and moved to enter the car in such a way that it knocked a female nurse back into the car with him. He pushed the highest button and ignored her as she exclaimed in anger. He tried to block Argent from getting in but he was already before the doors closed.

Argent glanced at the reflective metal walls and saw that he was in the elevator with Dean and something that looked like the Crypt Keeper. He briefly heard the sound of metal sliding on metal then saw Dean attack the wraith before the wraith realized that her charade was over. Even so, she managed to block his attack with the angel sword. She slammed Dean into the other side of the car. Dean grunted in pain but otherwise ignored the impact as he continued to maneuver the angel blade in the hopes of getting past the wraith’s defenses. 

            Argent grabbed his knife from its sheath and stabbed it from behind, aiming for its heart but missing due to the struggle. It hissed and threw Dean into the other wall then swung around with a backfist to Chris’s face, knocking him against the wall next to Dean. It pushed the next floor button before turning around to find Dean shaking off yet another head shot.

            It kicked him in the face right as the elevator dinged. The doors opened and it shot out of the car but got tripped up when Dean lunged forward and grabbed its foot. It hissed and yanked its foot out with Dean attached to it. It shot into an upright position and reached down to grab Dean around his throat.

            Dean felt the wraith’s hand close around his throat and mentally groaned at the skin on skin contact. He so didn’t want to go down this route but then again, that was how he got to the last one. He reflexively reached up and grabbed the tightening hand on his throat. He tried to get a grip on its thumb to try a thumb lock. He managed to loosen the hold enough to get a breath before he moved to stab the wraith again. He was thrown sideways into another wall and felt his head hit it on impact. This time he slid down it blinking vaguely as he heard the fight in the distance.

            He tried to shake off the dizziness but he felt the hallucination start and knew it was going to be ugly after the last couple of days. He heard his wolf’s roar of rage and saw it charge the wraith. Unfortunately, Derek completely missed the fact that Argent was foregoing his knife and aiming his gun at it. Argent fired his deadly shot as his wolf crossed directly into the field of fire.

            “No!” Dean’s anguished denial echoed loudly throughout the hallway as Derek’s dead body fell at his feet.


	12. No Surprise

** Chapter 12 - No Surprise  **

“Yeesss!” A sinister voice hissed throughout his mind. It let him feel the weight of it while his eyes remained locked on Derek’s still form, watching the wolf’s life’s blood seep into his boots and jeans. He stared into his wolf’s lifeless blue eyes that no longer glowed with vibrant power and felt something shatter deep inside him in a way that not even Alistair had been able to accomplish.

As soon as he sensed the first crack within him, he slammed down his war-forged walls to seal up what was left of his mind. He mentally blocked all of it, knowing if he let any of it in, it would destroy him entirely. Much like watching Sam die. Watching his mother die, set ablaze on the ceiling. Knowing his own weakness had killed his hero, his father, and so, so many of their friends.

            “You always knew it would happen,” the mental voice cajoled with wicked glee, seeping into his mind and somehow following his train of thought perfectly. “Everyone leaves you, Dean. Everyone around you dies. Because of you. All because of you, your weakness, your failure, you pathetic, broken sap.”

            “Derek?” Dean checked in a barely voiced whisper that was cracked with despair.

            “Aw, did Dean fail yet another person that he cared about? That he . . . _loved_?” the voice continued to tear at his mind and soul as it moved closer to him, savoring the mental anguish emanating from the hunter. “Don’t be silly,” it mocked carelessly. “How could you possibly fail your father so thoroughly, fail Sammy so completely, so horribly, as to fall in love with that disgusting thing? A supernatural monster? An unnatural beast. What would your father say, Deano? Wait. We both know, don’t we?” 

It changed its voice and suddenly his father was once again ordering in his ear firmly, “‘If it’s supernatural, we kill it. End of story.’ So why haven’t you killed that supernatural son of a bitch, Deano?”

Underneath his father yelling at him, he heard another soothingly seductive voice ruminate in his ear. “Good disguise, hunter. Making yourself smell so much like a wolf. Seriously thought you were one. That is, until you bled for me.” He vaguely felt something touch his head wound but was too entranced to identify it. “Mmmmm, but you are definitely very, very human and deliciously so. Even better than most. Your blood is sweeter, more divine, than any I’ve ever tasted. So very, very rich and saturated with so much pain. I’m going to really enjoy drinking you.”

Dean finally managed to close his eyes in apparent surrender and felt it shift into a better feeding position above. He steeled himself because if this bitch was going to kill his wolf, and him, well, she sure as hell was going to die with them. He carefully peered beneath mostly closed eyes at the spike that had completely descended and was moving toward him. He stealthily pulled his Colt out of the back of his jeans and readied it. 

At the last moment, he grabbed the spike with his free hand and growled out harshly, “You want to drink me, bitch? Well, get in line.” He twisted his wrist and snapped off the end of the spike while he brought his Colt around to draw a bead on the arching wraith who was withering in pain above him. He completely ignored the wraith’s juices that sprayed all over him and didn’t hesitate to shoot instantly with the silver bullets loaded into his gun. He pumped two into its heart then another into its brain to be sure.

The wraith let out a death screech before it fell dead on top of Dean who was already covered with its icky brain juices. He unconsciously let out a grunt of pain as he slammed back against the wall and sagged down it slightly. He turned back to listlessly stare at Derek’s fallen body. He couldn’t move from that position, completely emotionally numb from the vision, even after the wraith’s body was suddenly yanked off of him.

He didn’t think he’d ever get that image out of his mind. In fact, he knew he wouldn’t. Just like Hell and all the things he saw there that could never be unseen. He’d never be able to unsee this. It would haunt his dreams. He knew it would. 

“Damn it, Dean, snap out of it,” the wolf’s voice insisted sharply inside his ear but the still body of his wolf didn’t move an inch.

Dean frowned slightly over the contradiction, only to blink a second later at Derek’s suddenly very close face entering his field of vision. Dean jerked his head back suddenly, hitting it against the wall and causing more pain to throb in it. He cursed softly, very mindful of his injuries. He vaguely looked back at where the body was, only to find that it was now gone, thankfully.

“Dean, come on, man,” Derek growled impatiently. “Snap out of it already.” 

He could tell that Derek was at the end of his patience and knew what was about to happen. He warned thickly, still not completely over the last hallucination, “Don’t.” He felt the wolf’s hesitation and indecision as he turned his head and stared directly into his wolf’s eyes. He narrowed his eyes slightly at Derek and stated firmly with only a slight rasp in his voice, “My head already feels like a damn ping pong ball. I’m not about to take another hit to it calmly.”

Derek exhaled heavily with relief, “Finally. It’s about damn time. Are you okay? Besides your head, that is.”

“Yeah, sure. Just peachy,” Dean automatically confirmed in a soft and completely unconvincing voice. “Argent?”

“Here,” Argent called out from the side where Dean knew the wraith was but he didn’t turn to check. There was no way he wanted to see that bitch ever again. “I got the body. You need to get cleaned up. Or do you think there are more of them?”

“Nah,” Dean rasped out before he cleared his throat and added clinically, “there would’ve been more vics. Besides wraiths generally hunt alone.”

“Come on, hunter,” Derek offered abruptly, holding out his hand to help the hunter up. “We need to get you cleaned up. You seriously reek.”

Dean almost rolled his eyes at that comment before he caught himself but he couldn’t keep himself from retorting, “Of course. Now, you . . . know what, never mind.” He took the offered hand but cautioned knowingly, “Slowly, wolfen.” He could tell that he at least had a concussion and didn’t want to pass out from standing up too quickly.

Derek nodded in acknowledgement and gently pulled Dean up then steadied the swaying hunter. He questioned firmly, “Are sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah, just the normal daily concussion for Dean,” Dean dismissed sarcastically. “Wish I knew why the hell these sons of bitches loved throwing me into walls so much, especially head first.”

“Maybe because you tend to blindly charge into those type of situations,” Derek responded in kind as he carefully lead Dean to the elevator. “You know. Head first.”

“Nah. No way it could be that,” Dean dismissed weakly before inquiring. “Where are we going?”

“Downstairs. First floor staff lounge has a shower,” Derek informed him clinically while he pushed a button for the first floor. “Going to get you there then I’ll go get your clothes.”

“Get off of me. Not a baby,” Dean grumbled irritably as he shrugged off the wolf’s arms. “Can walk there myself, mom.”

“Fine,” Derek snapped out then bargained, “Prove it so that I can trust you to at least bath yourself.”

“Bite me,” Dean growled over the insult.

“Maybe later,” Derek taunted sarcastically as the elevator doors closed.

“Yeah, about that,” Dean returned seriously. “Did you?”

Derek sighed heavily, “You remember?”

“No, not exactly,” Dean answered tightly, glaring at the wolf, “but the wraith thought I was a wolf and that caused a flash. I thought I made myself very clear on that subject.”

“You did. And I completely agreed. But when your eyes were glowing,” Derek explained hesitantly, “something happened and . . . Damn it, Dean, it was never my intention. I did my best not to but you . . .”

Dean stared at him dully during the explanation but honestly didn’t, or couldn’t, feel anything. He wasn’t exactly sure which was the actual case. He also knew that he should be pissed as hell at the damn wolf but part of him was actually only angry at himself. He always knew it was a possibility, especially with some of the activities they got up to together. However, all he really felt was . . . nothing. He’d shut down so thoroughly that only the vision was still inside and it completely consumed his mind, no matter how hard he tried to force it out.

“Dean?” Derek prodded with concern as he moved to stand directly in front of the hunter.

Dean forced himself to respond nonchalantly, “Huh. Well, don’t sweat it. It was probably Cas’s grace doing things. According the wraith, I’m still very human so, again, probably Cas’s grace cured it, like with the Jefferson Starships. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again. Okay, Cujo?”

The elevator doors opened on the first floor so Dean motioned Derek forward. The wolf took the hint and lead Dean to staff lounge using the hallways cleared by Melissa and Stilinski. Derek held the door for Dean, keeping an eye out for observers. 

Dean entered the room and quickly scanned it. He found the room empty so he headed directly toward the shower, eager to get all the icky crap off of him. He found the towels and called out, “Go get me clothes, Lassie.”

Derek casually leaned against the side of the door jam with his arms crossed his chest as he remarked casually, “Okay, first of all, if anyone’s the woman in this, it’s you, princess. Secondly, I’m not your trained dog. Lastly, I’ll be more than happy to get your clothes just as soon as you tell me what the bitch made you see.”

Dean had leaned over and turned on the water to get the shower ready during Derek’s remarks but now he straightened up and blinked at him in surprise for a moment. He quickly recovered and quipped easily, “Oh, you know. The normal. Howler monkeys. Hell. Howler monkeys in Hell. Yadda, yadda, yadda.”

“Yeah, right,” Derek scoffed with disbelief. “Fine. I get it. Never let anyone in. Right. Get in and wash off. We still have Deaton and the kids to take of. I’ll get your clothes.” He abruptly turned and left without looking back. In a blink of an eye, he was gone.

With the observant wolf gone, Dean sagged under the weight he’d been holding back. He closed his eyes for a moment, once again trying to force it all back, while he methodically stripped off his gore soaked clothes. He climbed into the hot shower and attempted to let the water wash it all way. He ducked his head under the water and braced both hands on the front shower wall. 

In spite of everything he tried, the vision slammed back into his mind and tore at his not- so-hardened heart once again. Despair the likes that he’d only know a few times before gripped him. It caused him to unconsciously clench his fists in response. 

He knew he couldn’t lose it. He was on a hunt, for God’s sake. He had things to do, things to kill. Hell, Sam was even on the way. He so had to get a grip on this, like yesterday. 

Plus, there’s no freakin’ way that he should be feeling this. Not this much. Not over a one nighter. Not over a freakin’ wolf.

No matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, he still felt ripped to shreds. The truth was there in all the pain but still he refused to acknowledge it. Adamantly refused. Because in the end, it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter what the hell he felt for whatever misguided reason. In the end, it would be as it always was. He had learned that well enough with Cas. And with Benny. Especially with Benny.

Pain exploded in his knuckles and radiated up his arm but that didn’t stop him, even after he realized he’d unconsciously punched the shower wall. In fact, he continued to punch the wall because that pain was always easier to handle than any other. He could deal with physical pain. It was a way of life to him. It almost worried him how normal the pain he was inflicting on himself felt.

Out of nowhere, very strong, very familiar hands gripped his as his wolf’s slightly heated body covered his own cool back, stilling the tumult of emotion that threatened to pull him under. He was yanked up and the firm command sounded softly in his left ear.  “Enough.” 

Derek pushed him up against the wall and slammed his lips on to the hunter’s while his tongue tasted Dean’s gasp. He gripped Dean’s hair and tilted the hunter’s head to penetrate deeper. He wanted to suck all the despair he sensed in his hunter out and he knew that this was the one way that Dean always let him in.

Dean quickly latched on to Derek and the distraction the wolf provided. He wrapped his hands around the wolf’s water slick body and pulled him in so tightly that it was as if he wanted to meld into Derek. He parried the wolf’s dominating tongue, trying to fight back, even though he really didn’t care about winning. He only cared about . . .

“Stop,” he gasped hoarsely as he yanked his mouth away but the wolf moved on to his sensitive neck, causing delightful shivers to course through his body. “Derek, stop.” 

“No,” the wolf breathed out adamantly against his skin. “Want you back, Dean. Completely back. The bitch still has too much of a hold on you. If you won’t tell me what you saw, then I’m going to make you see something so much better.” With that, he sunk down to his knees and swallowed down Dean’s growing erection.

“Shit,” Dean cursed instinctively at the suddenness of the intensely pleasurable sensations coursing through his body while he slid his legs further apart to give the wolf more room to work its magic. His body automatically opened itself up to his wolf, allowing the dominate creature to do what it wanted to him. Through half closed eyes, he peered down at the magnificent wolf sucking down his increasingly engorged cock. He didn’t even realize that his hands were buried deep in the wolf’s hair until he saw them there. Without conscious thought, he immediately started moving his hips and hands in tandem, chasing the promised pleasure that completely blocked out everything else. It was so much better than what had previously occupied his mind.

He felt the wolf’s rough tongue move around the sensitive flare around his cock head and down the vein underneath. It caressed back up to his leaking slit, lapping up all that it could like it was a tasty treat. All the while, the wolf sucked up and down his full length.

Dean’s eyes fluttered in an attempt to close under the pleasurable onslaught but he tried to force them back open so that he didn’t miss anything. He could feel his climax building inside him but he also felt something missing. Something that he didn’t want to acknowledge. Something that he shouldn’t ever need. 

“Derek,” he whispered uneasily. He really wanted to come but the other need was driving him crazy. It left him craving something more, something more that was currently seeping out of a place it shouldn’t. He felt what he knew to be the wolf’s cum from last night once again seeping out but that didn’t change the empty ache inside him.

            Derek didn’t pause for even an instant at the needy sound of his hunter’s voice. He only flashed his glowing blue eyes up at Dean at the same time he pushed two fingers into the hunter’s still slightly open entrance. He felt the hunter jerk in surprise before he felt one of Dean’s hands release his hair. He heard Dean’s muffled shout of surprised pleasure and tasted his hunter’s cum erupting in his mouth.

            Dean’s desire intensified at the sight of his wolf’s bright blue eyes but the sudden feel of Derek’s fingers pushing deep inside him, filling the empty place deep inside him, tipped him over the edge. He felt himself free fall into yet another awesome orgasm. Knowledge that they were still in a semi-public place allowed him to remember to muffle his pleasured shout into his fisted hand, biting down slightly in the process. 

His head slowly fell back against the shower wall while grateful relief flowed through him, combined with the normal endorphins. His weary eyes closed in relief and his body sagged slightly against the shower wall. His other hand finally released the wolf’s hair as both of them fell to his sides while he tried to catch his breath. 

            He felt the wolf move up his relaxed body and then his lips were once again captured by the wolf. He didn’t have the will to fight this dangerous attraction after having his mind blown through his cock so he allowed Derek to pillage his mouth as much as the wolf wanted. He could taste himself on the wolf’s tongue. It was a taste he was becoming way too familiar with. But, once again, he didn’t care, _this one last time_. He completely ignored the small voice in the back of his mind that reminded him of how many times he’d said those four words about this particular wolf before.

After a few minutes of the pleasurable activity, Dean vaguely noticed that the water wasn’t as hot as it used to be. He sighed heavily and asked quietly, “Want me to reciprocate? Or should I just wash up now?”

Derek pulled back and stared at the hunter for a long moment then shook his head at what he saw. He sighed with resignation then kissed Dean once more before he slapped Dean’s ass and told him, “I’m good. And we need to get to Deaton’s before he opens.” 

With that, Derek was gone, leaving Dean alone in the shower. Dean stared after him for a moment then shrugged his shoulders and moved back under the lukewarm water stream. He robotically grabbed the soap and quickly showered, knowing the sooner he was done with this hunt, the better for his peace of mind.

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

Derek quickly dressed and exited the lounge, only to meet the others who were about to enter it. He managed to close the door to the lounge and keep the others in the hallway, giving Dean a little more time to get himself together. He stood in front of the door with his arms crossed over his chest like a sentinel.

“How is he?” Argent inquired quietly.

“Better,” Derek answered vaguely.

“What did he see?” Stilniski wondered curiously, only to continue at Derek’s closed expression. “I mean, I’ve never seen anyone seem so . . .”

“Wouldn’t say,” Derek allowed vaguely. “Only mentioned holler monkeys and Hell but there’s apparently plenty in his past that it could have brought back up.”

“Is he okay?” Melissa prodded with concern.

“He’s ‘fine’,” Derek answered caustically, obviously quoting the hunter.  

“Why do I feel like he’d say that if he was missing an arm and a leg?” Stilinski asked rhetorically.

“Actually, he’d probably call that a flesh wound,” Derek remarked sarcastically. 

“Of course, he would,” Stilinski commented dryly.

            “She probably showed him what’s going to happen if he continues certain current activities,” Argent hypothesized pointedly. 

            Derek narrowed his eyes at the hunter while the others only appeared confused. Derek offered with reservations, “Something you want to say, Argent?”

            “Just wondering if he knows your nature,” Argent replied tautly.

            Derek held in the warning growl his wolf wanted to release but couldn’t let it go as he demanded tightly, “And what is my nature?”

            “Scorpion,” Argent answered harshly. “As in the frog and the scorpion.”

            “Is there a problem here, gentlemen?” Stilinski interrupted uneasily.

            “You do know the tale, don’t you?” Argent continued, focused solely on Derek who in turn was solely focused on the hunter. 

            “I’m aware, but that’s not the issue,” Derek stated firmly. “Nor does it apply.”

            “Doesn’t it?” Argent verified with a slight sneer.

            “No, it doesn’t,” Derek confirmed forcefully. “And apparently Allison hasn’t told you the truth, just like Scott refused to tell Allison that same truth for months.”

            “What the hell are you talking about?” Argent demanded hotly. “What hasn’t Allison told me?”

            “Ask her what really killed your wife,” Derek insisted adamantly. “Ask her what code your wife followed that lead her to be where she was when she was bitten.”

            The door behind Derek opened suddenly, causing Derek to jerk slightly before moving over to allow Dean out. Dean walked up to stand right next to the wolf and glanced around before wondering, “What’s with all the sour faces? Thought we had a great morning. Should be partying, right? One down . . .” He paused in his enthusiastic speech. His eyes rolled up to count in his head while he moved his fingers. 

            Stilinski frowned over the abrupt ending to what he thought was going to be a longer sentence. After a few seconds, he prodded uncertainly, “One down, what?”

            “Hold up,” Dean evaded distractedly. “Still counting.”

            Derek rolled his eyes slightly at his friend’s antics, trying not smile, but didn’t quite manage it. He couldn’t help but ask, “Counting what?”

            Dean pondered aloud, “So do the cursed teens actually count?”

            Derek frowned slightly before he figured out what his idiot hunter was doing. He sighed heavily, “No, because we are not taking them out, which you already know. Enough with the distraction, Dean. I wasn’t . . . Let’s just go.”

            “Well, we still have a curse and the nemo-whatever,” Dean pointed out by holding up one finger. 

            “And the vamp nest, if they haven’t moved on,” Derek added pointedly.

            Dean scoffed wryly, “They might have but Kate hasn’t. She’ll come after me again unless they kill her themselves.”

“Would they?” Derek wondered curiously.

“If they fear big daddy alpha enough, yeah,” Dean answered easily. “But, since it’s me, and my luck, hell, no.” He flashed a small smile at that. “She’s not a real worry anyway.”

“Wait a minute,” Stilinski interrupted abruptly. “Hold up. Vamp as in vampires? Here? In Beacon Hills? Argent?” Argent shook his head but Dean countered automatically.

“Had a rash of animal attacks lately?” Dean inquired knowingly. “Animal bites with noticeable blood loss?”

“Animal bites but . . .” Argent started then trailed off.

“No one checked that far because everyone assumed it was what happened last time, right?” Dean guessed correctly.

“How many?” Argent demanded grimly.

“No clue,” Dean replied honestly. “Met up with five last night but there maybe more, or less, now. Still have to find the nest.”

“That’s why you mentioned decapitation last night,” Argent commented to himself, finally understanding that earlier conversation. 

“Only way to kill a vamp,” Dean replied before he continued, “Oh, and we also have the cult thing to check into.”

“Right,” Derek agreed sarcastically. “Because we don’t have nearly enough to do right now.”  
            Dean smiled tauntingly before prodding, “Too much for you, wolfen?”

“Never, grumpy. You’re the old man here. Remember?” Derek dismissed easily before he redirected pointedly, “Deaton will be opening in about twenty minutes so if you want to talk to him, we need to get going.”

Dean shook his head and advised firmly, “Have to salt and burn the wraith first.”

“I’ll take care of it,” Argent insisted then glanced at Derek before continuing, “I need to make sure Allison gets to school anyway. Let me know when you leave Deaton’s. We need to get on the same page.”

“Sure thing,” Dean responded easily then turned to Derek and asked, “Ready?”

“Yep,” Derek answered quickly then turned and headed out of the building.

Stilinski called after them, “Keep me in the loop.”

“Will do,” Dean promised before he followed the wolf out, clamping his hand on the sheriff’s shoulder in passing on the way out.

            -------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

            “What can I do for you gentlemen?” Deaton greeted them both calmly as they entered the animal clinic, in spite of the “Closed” sign in the glass doorway.

            “You can start by telling me the exact spell or ritual you performed on the teens,” Dean replied abruptly.

            “Of course,” Deaton responded willingly. “What exactly did you want to know? The supplies used? The process? Or . . .”

            “I want to know the whole thing,” Dean interrupted abruptly. “Every bit of it.”

            “Very well,” Deaton agreed easily then proceeded to outline the entire process in detail, withholding nothing.

            Once the vet was done, Dean blinked for a moment before he clarified carefully, “Are you seriously telling me that you ‘killed’ these three kids so they could be a substitute sacrifice for their parents?”

            “Yes,” Deaton answered blandly.

            “Like actually killed them?” Dean verified incredulously.

            “For a few minutes, yes,” Deaton clarified pointedly.

            “Seriously?” Dean repeated with increasing incredulity.

            Deaton sighed slightly, “I understand that it appears . . .”

            “What?” Dean interrupted abruptly. “Insane.”

            “I clearly outlined the procedure and the risks to every one of them beforehand,” Deaton related patiently. “They were well aware of the risks and possible outcomes. Each one agreed to the ritual. It wouldn’t have worked if they hadn’t.”

            “Of course, they agreed,” Dean exploded impatiently. “What child wouldn’t risk their lives to save their parents? They were in no condition to make that decision. They had no real way of knowing what the real price was. No one does until they do it and then it’s too freakin’ late. What the hell were you thinking?”

            “It was their decision,” Deaton reiterated firmly.

            “No, it wasn’t,” Dean snapped back. “They. Are. Minors. Minors under duress. They never should’ve been given the choice in the first place. And you know that. No one should mess with that kind of stuff. Ever.”

            “Is it that a bit hypocritical for you to say?” Deaton asked pointedly. “Dean Winchester.”

            Dean fried the vet with his eyes before he pointed out caustically, “It means I know what I’m talking about. No one ever escapes death’s touch without deep scars. Haven’t you ever seen ‘Flatliners’?”

            “Are you saying you wouldn’t trade yourself for Sam again?” Derek questioned harshly, finally entering the fray, and moving to where he could look directly into Dean’s eyes. “That you wouldn’t do it for him again? In a heartbeat? That you haven’t already done it for him again? And, remember, Dean, I will know if you lie.”

            Dean’s eyes blazed fiercely with bright emerald fire as he tried to incinerate the wolf with his eyes alone. He knew as he stared into Derek’s eyes that the wolf’d heard the conversation that he’d had with Ezekiel which meant that Derek also knew that Dean couldn’t say anything that wouldn’t damn him. Without a word, Dean spun on his heel and stormed out of the building, swearing to himself that he’d put a damn bullet into the wolf if it tried to follow him this time.

            Derek exhaled slowly then closed his eyes for a moment, regretting that he had to do that.

            “What are you doing, Derek?” Deaton asked with obvious concern.

            “Trying to keep Dean from killing you over this,” Derek snapped out. 

            “That’s not what I’m talking about,” Deaton redirected pointedly. “What are you doing with that hunter? Haven’t you been down this road before? Don’t you remember how it ends?”

            Derek arched an eyebrow and replied firmly, “That’s none of your concern.”

            “Of course, it’s my concern,” Deaton argued patiently. “I promised your mother . . .”

            “So I heard,” Derek interrupted impatiently. “But, considering the only times you’ve ever helped me were when it also helped Scott or Scott asked you to, you might understand that I sincerely doubt your actual dedication to that particular promise. Right now, you should be more concerned with me convincing Dean that you aren’t the evil magic user he’s looking for.” 

            With those final words, Derek left the building and tried to pick up Dean’s scent to track him, hoping that the hunter was much calmer by the time he caught up to him.


	13. An Ancient Surprise

** Chapter 13 – An Ancient Surprise  **

A sudden slamming sound startled Dean out of his fugue state as it resonated deep within his ears, waking him up to the fact that he now stood behind the Impala with no idea or recollection of how he’d actually gotten there. He checked his surroundings carefully and spotted the Nemeton not far away from where he’d parked. He vaguely remembered leaving the clinic, and Derek, with the intention of heading this way, but couldn’t recall any bit of the trip here so he was definitely uncertain of he had been doing within his car trunk.

Vaguely disturbed by this, he opened it again to make sure that everything was where it should be. He carefully inventoried the contents but nothing appeared amiss. He frowned over the entire incident as he tried to calm his churning gut. There was something seriously not right about this, he knew, but he went ahead and closed the trunk again, for lack of anything better to do. Without a clue of what was happening, he had no choice but to continue with the research he’d originally planned.

He stepped around the driver side of the car, checking that his weapons were all where they were supposed to be as he went, then he started toward the cellar of the Nemeton. He paused for a moment halfway there to double check his surroundings. It was then that he sensed eyes on him from two different sources but one of them felt familiar and something deep inside his gut that told him whose eyes they were, allowing him to taunt aloud, “Took you long enough, furball.”

“Just wanted to make sure that you’d calmed down enough, hairless ape,” Derek answered easily as he walked up to the hunter.

“As if,” Dean scoffed sarcastically then, under his breath, he mumbled softly, “Someone’s watching.” Dean continued in his normal voice, “So, what’s up?”

“You said you wanted to investigate Nemeton. Now’s the best time to do that. You know, in the daylight, so you can actually take your pictures, like you wanted to,” stated Derek reasonably before he announced in a slightly louder, sneering tone, “Were you just planning on doing your normal creeper thing? Or are you going to join us like a normal person?”

Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise at Derek’s invitation but kept his eyes glued to where his friend was looking. He was rewarded when a slender figure casually separated itself from the trees in the distance. It strolled nonchalantly up to them while it answered easily, “Of course, I’ll join you. All you had to do was ask. After all, it’s only polite to wait for the invitel. Anything for my favorite nephew, obviously. So what exactly are we all doing out here on this lovely sunny morning?”

“Don’t remind me that we’re related,” Derek growled out scathingly in warning before continuing briskly. “We are looking for the Darach’s remains. We need to make sure that she’s dead.”

“Then salt and burn the remains,” Dean interjected firmly.

Peter arched an eyebrow as he repeated curiously for verification, “’Salt and burn the remains’? Seriously? That a new hunter’s recipe? You are a hunter, aren’t you? I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.”

            Dean stared hard at Peter for a moment, sizing him up, then answered tautly, “There’s nothing new about the ‘recipe’ and you never will. Have the ‘pleasure’, that is.”

            Derek glanced at Dean’s closed face and could tell that these two had already started off on the wrong foot so he explained shortly, “Something’s controlling Scott and a few other teens. We think it might be her, or her spirit.”

            “Right. Of course. Because that would definitely be a Darack-type thing to do,” Peter retorted with light sarcasm. “Well, you’re in luck. I found her body last night.”

            “Convenient,” Dean snarked with distrust.

            “Yes, it is, isn’t it?” Peter countered blithely as he glanced at Dean then questioned warily, “Is he coming with?”

            Derek glanced at Dean who shook his head slightly before he dismissed mockingly, “Naw. You two go ahead and let your dogs out. I’ve got plenty of things to check out here.”

            Derek frowned slightly and double checked uncertainly, “You sure?”

            “Definitely,” Dean asserted firmly. When Derek didn’t look convinced, Dean huffed out irritably, “Just go. Anything happens, you’ll have your super wolf hearing, right?”

            “There is a range limit to that, you know,” Derek cautioned darkly.

            Dean shrugged nonchalantly then asked with his usual abundance of snark and attitude, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

            “Are you seriously asking me that after almost dying over three times yesterday?” Derek growled irritably.

            “Just proves how hard I am to kill,” Dean retorted cockily. “Should’ve given you a lot of confidence.” Derek glared even more, causing Dean to give a small laugh then assert firmly, “You’re forgetting that you aren’t my only backup. If the vamps, or anything else, comes by and you don’t hear me, I’ll call Cas. He’s my ace in the hole.”

            Derek frowned over that last bit but relented slightly at the obvious truth of that statement, “Fine. We’ll be quick.”

            “Whatever. Go fetch, Lassie,” Dean dismissed easily as he turned away with a wave of his hand and continued heading to the root cellar.

            Derek watched him for a moment more before he shook his head and turned away, motioned for Peter to lead the way. Peter looked at both of the other parties, trying to size up the puzzling situation, then shrugged and took off into the woods with Derek followed close behind him. Derek knew the sooner he found the body, the sooner he could return.

            Dean changed his direction slightly, deciding to look at the Nemeton again in the daylight. He stopped beside it and studied the grooves that he’d found last night to see if he could find any hints to what kind of cult he’d be dealing with later. Other than the seven groves, there was a burnt circle in the middle of it that he was pretty sure was recent.

            He climbed up on the Nemeton and walked over to the center for a better look. A tingling sensation started on the back of his neck when he was within arm’s reach and he knew there was something coming for him as the sensation grew exponentially. Something powerful. Something . . . not happy.

            He let the angel blade fall from inside his sleeve into his hand as he calmly turned to face the newest threat. A petite brunette Asian woman materialized with the familiar flap of wings. Her hands were clasped in front of her, giving her the innocent appearance of a typical Hallmark angel, but he sensed the truth about her. He didn’t know how he did and was a bit freak by all of it. In the standard Winchester way, he suppressed that in order to deal with what was before him.

            “Lailah,” Dean greeted solemnly before he even knew it. He cursed mentally while still holding an increasing need to freak out at bay. He needed to focus solely on what was coming.

            “So, it’s true,” she answered with equal gravity. “How did you do it? Torture?”

            He blinked a moment while he tried to figure out the question but he couldn’t come up with anything. He shook his head slightly then prompted guardedly, “Yeah, I’m going to need a little more than that if you actually expect an answer.”

            She scoffed with derision, “What more could you possibly need? You already took my mate. How else would a mud monkey like you know who I am?”

            Dean’s eyebrows raised in surprise at her answer before he frowned and demanded irritably, “Look, lady? Or, you know, whatever. I got no clue what you’re talking about or how I even knew who you are. I just want you asshats to leave me alone and I’ll leave you alone. Why is that such a hard concept for you featherbrains?”

            “If you wanted me to leave you alone, you shouldn’t have killed my mate!” she announced authoritatively as she advanced on him and two more of her brethren appeared.

            “I haven’t killed anyone lately,” Dean argued hotly then paused a moment before adding honestly, “Well, except for a wraith this morning. Wait. Really? I didn’t think you holy rollers did that sort of thing but whatever. I’m definitely not judging.”

            “Not that abomination,” she snapped back irritably as she appeared on the Nemeton about a foot from him. “He was an angel until you killed him yesterday.”

            “Oh, one of them,” he acknowledged dryly. “Well, once again, you dicks got it all wrong. I didn’t kill any of them.”

            “You lie,” she hissed irately. “I cannot find him or sense him anywhere. The divination spell I cast lead me here, to you, and you knew who I was. You killed him. And now you will die for it.”

            All three angels flew at Dean in unison.

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

            Derek walked up to where Peter had stopped and stared down at the headless corpse partially covered in leaves and woodland debris. Even with the head missing and the bite marks, he could sense that it was the Darack’s remains. But something was off, and not just her head. He couldn’t figure out what it was, though, as he intently studied the scene.

            As he stared, trying to figure out what was bothering him, he unconsciously asked, “Where . . .?”

            “The head?” Peter figured out easily enough. “No clue. And, speaking of no clue, when exactly did you turn gay? Or, more importantly, what in the bloody hell are you doing with another hunter, _nephew_?”

            Derek growled warningly before he hissed, “That’s none . . .”

            A blinding pain seared through his left shoulder which caused Derek to roar in pain as his wolf came out. He vaguely saw Peter back away with a bewildered look while Derek turned to look down at the pained limb but there was nothing there. In an instant, he instinctively knew Dean was in trouble.

            “Take that to the house. Store it in the basement,” he barked out aggressively to Peter before he charged back to where he’d left his friend.

            He automatically strained his ears to pick up anything coming from Dean to get an idea of what he might face once he was there. Before he even got to the clearing, he heard Dean’s voice chanting again and growled angrily. His hunter damn well knew better than to cast that spell which meant there had to be too many for Dean to handle. He increased his pace and felt something deep inside telling him to shift more to go faster but he knew he’d shifted as far as he normally could.

Before he could do or think anything else, he broke through the trees and into the clearing. He paused for a brief second to survey the scene, assessing where he was needed the most. He counted two bodies down on the Nemeton, not far from where Dean had another one pinned down that was cursing him in a language similar to the chant.

He frowned slightly, double checking the area to make sure there weren’t more, when he heard Dean bite out harshly, “You want to see your lover so bad. You can join him. In Purgatory.” Dean said something else in a language similar to the chant before he managed to stab the angel blade into the pinned woman’s shoulder.

A bright white light and a piercing, high pitch shrill sounded in unison with a ground trembling explosion. Dean cried out in surprise as he was suddenly launched into the air in a high arc away from the Nemeton. Derek let out a brief curse and raced to keep his hunter intact.

He leapt up and snatched Dean out of the aerial trajectory right before Dean would have been slammed into the huge oak tree. They both fell in rolls to the ground in a slightly softer-than-ground bunch of underbrush and leaves. They ended up, lying side by side on their backs, panting heavily.

Dean groaned softly before commenting sarcastically, “Well, this seems vaguely familiar.”

Derek rolled his eyes and warned tightly, “Not going to work this time, Dean.” He rolled over to his side and demanded hotly, “What happened to calling Cas?”

“I could handle it,” Dean argued breathlessly.

“You were almost killed by a tree,” Derek countered hotly.

“Nonsense,” Dean protested vaguely as he slowly sat up, carefully holding his left shoulder as still as possible. “’m fine.”

“Really, Dean?” Derek scoffed dismissively. “I’d believe that a helluva lot more if your shoulder wasn’t poking out of the socket like it is right now.”

Dean rolled his eyes at the wolf and redirected with weary sarcasm, “You gonna fix it or just yell at me more? Because I’m sure that’ll pop it right back into the socket and help me so much more.”

Derek closed his eyes and growled for a moment before he stood and observed harshly, “Your head has to be made of the hardest thing known to man.”

“Yea, I’m just awesome that way,” Dean touted mockingly while he took the hand that Derek held out for him. As Derek slowly pulled him up, Dean informed him clinically, “But no concussion this time so . . . go team.”

“We really need to reassess what you consider a win,” Derek commented dryly.

“Says you,” Dean retorted automatically.

Derek shook his head at the stubborn hunter then positioned himself on the hunter’s left side. He allowed Dean to steady himself before he carefully placed his hands on the hunter’s injury. He cautioned softly, “On three.”

“Yea, right,” Dean scoffed humorlessly. “Like I believe that. That means you will do it . . . Ah, son of a . . .” Dean broke off in pain as Derek popped his shoulder back into the socket.

“You might want to actually let that heal up before fighting again so that it doesn’t slip out yet again,” Derek advised dryly but without much hope of that really happening.

“Am I interrupting something?” Peter asked casually from where he’d been observing the two. It was the same tree that Dean had almost crashed into a forcefully bad way. The elder wolf’s arms and legs were negligently crossed while he leaned against said tree.

Derek exhaled heavily, trying to contain his impatience, before he pointed out blatantly, “I thought I told you . . .”

“Yes, I’m well aware of what you told me,” Peter interrupted abruptly. “But then I see you charge full tilt into who knows what. Forgive me for being a concerned uncle. After all, you’re about all the family I have left. Thanks to hunters, I might add.”

“You just did,” Dean grumbled irritably while he slowly moved his sore shoulder to make sure it was back in working, if painful, order.

Derek gave a short, harsh laugh. “A little late to show such concern for your family.”

“I’ve already explained . . .” Peter started plantitively, only to be interrupted by Dean.

“Stow the family drama for a moment,” Dean snapped shortly. “Where’s the Dar-whatever?”

Derek answered tightly, “We found the body but the head was missing.”

Dean arched his eyebrows in slight surprise before he clarified curiously, “Missing as in chopped off or bit off?”

Derek and Peter glanced at each other before Derek answered slowly, “Chopped but not cleanly.”

“More like hacked off,” Peter elaborated slightly.

Dean exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his hair. “Great. That’s par for the course and about what I figured. Well, we still need to salt and burn it but we definitely need to have the head, too.” Dean glanced back at the Nemeton as he plotted his next move.

“Do we need to wait for the head?” Derek asked curiously. “Or can we just burn what we have now and the head later?” Dean didn’t answer right way so Derek turned to see what Dean was staring at.

Ultimately it was Peter who asked the obvious question. “Uh, where did the bodies go?”

Dean let out a relieved breath which had Derek studying him intently before he surmised haltingly, “You weren’t sure they were there? Were you?”

Dean swallowed thickly as he tried to figure out what was going on with him. He really didn’t know how to answer Derek because he wasn’t sure what to say. On the one hand, he was sure that the angels had been real. God knows, the pain in his shoulder had been real enough but when their bodies disappeared . . .

“Dean?” Derek prodded impatiently. He could sense the unrest inside the hunter and needed to know what was going on. He knew things would only get worse if they didn’t handle it now.

“What?!” Dean snapped back automatically. “Of course, I knew they were there. What the hell else could have blasted me off that damn tree stump? We need to seriously touch that thing. And, no, we don’t have to wait for the head but we need to make sure nothing else is missing off it.”

“Peter,” Derek started but Peter simply reaffirmed, “Right. The house. You owe me for this, Derek.” With that, Peter turned and headed back off into the woods.

Derek looked after him thoughtfully while Dean prodded honestly, “You probably should follow him.”

“What are you going to do?” Derek pried uncertainly.

“Going to get my sword in case any more of those stupid featherbrains show up,” Dean answered easily as he headed to the Nemeton where the angel sword stood, sticking out of the middle of the Nemeton, close to the burnt circle.

“I’ll wait for you,” Derek countered firmly. “Peter knows where to take the body.”

“Whatever,” Dean dismissed blithely, know nothing would move the wolf from his side now. If he were honest with himself, he probably needed the backup considering his jacked up shoulder but he would die before he admitted that. He jumped up onto the Nemeton and walked briskly to the angel sword then gripped it tight.

As soon as his hand closed around the cold silver metal, he felt the world around him start spinning. He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes for a second to keep from getting dizzy. Even so, he felt his stomach drop at the abrupt motion. He slowly reopened his eyes and, thankfully, the world wasn’t spinning anymore. But it had changed drastically.

The surrounding trees were lush and full of green leaves. They appeared much younger now. Thick undergrowth appeared where there was none previously and most of the previously worn down paths had disappeared from plain sight. Light fog floated and swirled within the area like it was a living, breathing entity, giving the whole clearing an otherworldly appearance.

“Crap,” Dean gritted out slowly and immediately started looking for fae. This time, he was definitely going to kick Oberon’s ass so that they never came after him again. There was no way in hell they were keeping him in fairyland.

_Marked, my ass. Well, hopefully not my . . . Damn it. Focus, Dean._

He yanked the angel sword out of the tree trunk and his Colt out of the back of his jeans then prepared himself for the first attack while he mentally hoped that at least one of the two would help him against the fairies.

A sudden voice boomed behind him, causing him to spin around, with the angel sword in one hand and his pistol in the other. He stilled at the vision in front of him, mentally stunned for a moment. “Just when I think I’ve seen it all,” he mumbled to himself with cynical disbelief.

Before him stood what looked like an eight foot deer standing on two legs. It’s twelve point antlers spanned at least three foot in width. As it moved closer, he could slowly make out a human, a man, under the deer’s coat. It was speaking to him, he realized vaguely, then he figured out that he probably should pay attention to what it was saying to him.

“Hear me and heed me for I am Herne the Hunter, Lord of the Trees, Dean Winchester, descendent of Adam and Eve. The powers of Light and Darkness have always been with you even when you have denied them. Denied your fate, even to your saving God.”

“The sword you have taken up cannot be returned until your quest is done,” the pagan god announced forcefully as it raised a hoof-covered hand in the direction of the angel sword which shifted and changed in his hands. At the same time, he felt his clothes and his Colt do the same. He tried to drop the sword but he couldn’t move his fingers, or anything else.

“The sword is Albion, one of the seven swords of Wayland, charged with the power of light and darkness, just as you are charged with the same powers. You, and you alone, decide from which side its power comes. You decide which side will dominate this land in this time.”

“Even now, the powers of Darkness have taken hold in this land, in the area where my followers once worshiped. Their dark taint has spoiled that what was once pure and good like the source of power beneath us. Beware and pay close heed. For they that seek to shatter the bolts that hold back the Evil One must first take Albion from you. Hold steadfast, Dean Winchester. It is written that the servants of Lucifer will find the seventh sword1 at the Beacon in the Hills. You must guard it with your heart’s blood. Fail in this quest and none will survive.”

Dean glared at the obnoxious pagan stag while he opened his mouth to tell it what he thought of this whole crazed situation, only to have the world shift again. He clenched his jaw angrily and closed his eyes tightly again. He braced himself and waited for the world to once again right itself.

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

“Damn it, Dean!” Derek snarled out loudly with frantic exasperation.

“What?” Dean snapped back automatically, completely at the end of his patience, as he opened his eyes to see that he was back in the original clearing. He turned slightly to the left, filled with immense relief that he could actually move again, and saw Derek spin around quickly then freeze as soon as their eyes meet. He continued irritably, “It’s not my fault that my freakin’ family is cursed by all this crap. I mean, what the hell was that? Freakin’ freaks and their freakin’ religious quest crap. Like hell. I’m so done with all this . . . like a freakin’ bad B rated TV series . . .”

“Nice outfit,” Derek purred seductively in the middle of Dean’s rant as he slowly stalked the hunter, taking time to run his apparently starving eyes up and down Dean’s lean frame.

“What the . . .” Dean trailed off in confusion then looked down at what the . . . whatever . . . had changed his clothes into. He saw dark brown mid-calf, laced up leather boots like he wore when he LARP’ed with Charlie, followed by green tights, dark green velvet shirt that opened down the middle decorated with gold metal studs, and ended with dark soft leather hood. He had dark brown leather braces on his forearms that extended from his wrist to his mid-forearm and a thick leather belt which held the velvet shirt closed. In one hand he held a bow and in the other a sword. “Oh for the love of . . . why do I always get stuck with the stupid costumes?”

“Because you make anything look hot?” Derek offered honestly, to which Dean huffed out irritably, “Fuck my life.”

“Gabriel!” Dean gritted out warningly. “Change me back! Now! You dickhead!’

Derek stopped right in front of Dean and asked curiously, “Why?” He looked Dean up and down one more time before he acknowledged admiringly, “You look really good in tights. Really, really good.”

Dean glared at the wolf but couldn’t stop the rush of color that warmed his face or the rush of blood that warmed a much lower part of his body. “Shuddup,” he snapped softly without any heat, hoping that Derek didn’t pick up on his embarrassment, much less his arousal. “Gabriel, I’m serious, damn it! If I don’t get my Colt back, I’m gonna have some fried archangel wings! Extra crispy!.”

Derek hid a smile at the tirade, thinking it was really hard to take the hunter seriously in his current outfit, before he inquired curiously, “What makes you think it was him, considering both you and Cas think he’s still dead?”

“Because that asshat is always doing crazy crap like this to us,” Dean exploded with exasperation. “Like throwing us in TV Land and killing me over and over in a Groundhog’s Day remake. Slow dancing aliens. Freakin’ pagan gods are his specialty. Gabriel!”

Dean waited another minute impatiently before he turned to storm towards the car, intent on change out of the freakin’ fairy outfit. He only took a step before he stopped abruptly and cursed violently under his breath. His head slumped down slightly as he mentally tried to get a tight rein on his body.

“Freakin’ satin? Are you freakin’ kidding me? I’m so going to kill you, you freakin’ winged dick,” he promised darkly in a very low voice under his breath while he tried to calm down his now definitely more than half hard erection. Unbidden, the memory of Rhonda Hurley’s pink satin panties flashed in his mind and his body instantly recalled the feelings they invoked. Suddenly, the short trek to his baby increased exponentially.

Behind him, Derek leaned forward to find out what was wrong when his senses were engulfed with intense arousal coming from his hunter. He overheard what Dean had muttered and arched an eyebrow as he glanced down to find out what satin Dean was talking about. That’s when he noticed the slight reflective sheen generated by the deep green tights.

Apparently, Dean thought that he had gotten his body under enough control, Derek assumed as he watched the hunter resume his motion towards the Impala. Derek automatically followed close behind, carefully watching how the satin tights clung to Dean’s well-shaped ass and muscular legs. He could smell Dean’s arousal growing with each step and smiled wickedly at the unexpected, hidden knowledge that he knew Dean didn’t want him to have.

Of course, Derek himself had tried satin boxers before, like most guys do, and while, yeah, they’d felt good, they didn’t make him feel anything like what they apparently made his hunter feel. But then again tights were probably much snugger than boxers. The material probably moved over those sensitive areas even more as a result, Derek hypothesized mentally.

He glanced up and saw how close they were to the Impala and, unbidden, a delicious image popped into his mind that his wolf drooled over. It was very difficult to rein it back in as the image cemented itself firmly in his brain. He decided that he really needed to find out if reality would live up to even half of his expectations.

“So, you really don’t like the tights, huh?” Derek verified appraisingly while he calculated exactly how he wanted this to go down.

“No,” Dean snapped out over his shoulder, completely oblivious to the slight huskiness of his own voice, much less Derek’s. It took all his concentration to keep his pleasured moans contained as the satin caressed his fully aroused cock with each and every step. He didn’t remember it feeling this good but then he hadn’t stayed in the panties nearly as long, nor had he moved nearly as much.

About a foot from the Impala, a force slammed into his back, propelling him face down onto his baby’s hood. He broke his fall with his hands, saving his face from impact, only to feel a familiar weight settle on his back. He growled low in warning, “Damn it, Derek. Get the hell off me! I’m not in the mood for this crap.”

Derek rumbled thickly into his ear, “Just trying to help you out, considering how much you hate the tights.”

Dean felt the wolf’s hand land on the outside of his lower right hamstring and slowly slide up the back of his leg toward his satin encased ass. He growled louder, knowing where this was going. He let his body go lax and felt Derek let up on the pressure he was applying then Dean spun around, swinging his fist, as he went. He nailed Derek in the jaw and smirked with pleasure when he saw Derek’s head fly back. “I said, ‘no,’ dog brains. Now, back off.”

Derek snarled in warning while he tried to remind his wolf that they didn’t want to kill Dean. His eyes flashed bright blue and glowed while his canines grew. Derek gritted out tightly, “Dean.”

Whatever else Derek was going to say was cut off abruptly as Dean grabbed the wolf by the back of the head and yanked his wolf down aggressively. He mashed his lips to the wolf’s, feeling the pain as he unintentionally cut his lip on the wolf’s sharp teeth. He tasted his blood along with his wolf’s unique taste and, once again, worried about how screwed his life was that he found all this such an incredible turn on. It made him hate the wolf and himself even more for it. Mainly himself. But that didn’t stop him from biting out harshly when he broke away, panting for oxygen, “I hate you so much sometimes.”

“I know you do,” Derek acknowledged dismissively before he captured Dean’s bruised, cut lips in another mind numbing kiss. They both fought aggressively over who was going to dominate whom with their tongues but, in the end, Dean’s need for oxygen defeated him. He groaned in disappointment as he broke away, panting for breath. Derek nuzzled down Dean’s cheek and the side of Dean’s neck where he stopped to suck on that, oh, so sensitive part of Dean’s neck. Dean bucked up and rolled his hips under Derek’s heavy frame, moaning over the stimulating sensation of the satin caressing his engorged cock.

“Now, let’s show your precious baby exactly how much you hate me,” Derek cajoled seductively against Dean’s weak spot which caused his hunter to shudder deliciously underneath him. His inner wolf rumbled with approval and licked its lips in anticipation. Derek tried to calm down to make this last while he prodded encouragingly, “Turn over, Dean. Still have to remove your tights.”

Dean’s endorphin flooded mind barely understood but it caught enough to slowly flip over on his stomach with his cheek pressed lovingly against his baby. He hummed with pleasured contentment at being so caught between two of his loves. His . . . _what?_

Immediately his wolf’s heated body blanketed his back, distracting his previous thought process. One of the wolf’s strong arms encircled his chest and pulled him upright while Derek’s hips pressed forward, firmly capturing Dean’s hard cock against the side panel of his baby. Derek bit down lightly on the side of Dean’s neck right where his neck met his shoulder, directly on top of the previous bit, but not with enough pressure to break the fragile human’s skin.

Dean automatically let out a pleasured moan and pressed his hips even more firmly against his baby. Derek’s hips followed his motion, keeping Derek’s monster wolf hard on firmly pressed between Dean’s cheeks. Derek growled low against Dean’s shoulder and felt his hunter thrust his hips against the Impala again.

Derek released Dean’s shoulder in exchange for Dean’s lips as his other hand turned Dean’s head toward him. Once Derek had possession of his hunter’s lips, he moved his hand up to grip both sides of Dean’s velvet shirt and pull it open. All the while he kept Dean’s hips rutting against his car.

Dean yanked his head away with an explosive curse when Derek pinched both of his nipples with his free hands. Derek smiled proudly and continued to sexually torture his hunter while he growled lowly and demanded knowingly, “Do you still hate the tights, Dean?”

Dean groaned low in his throat, knowing that there was no way he’d admit to what Derek wanted him to and that Derek wouldn’t stop unless he did. He firmly trampled down the small voice in the back of his head that admitted that he honestly didn’t want the torture to stop. He was freakin’ Dean Winchester, after all. No way he’d ever admit to enjoying wearing satin tights, except to himself. Maybe.

Suddenly, Dean was sharply brought back to the present when his wolf’s hot firm hand glossed over then firmly gripped his throbbing cock. Derek’s warm voiced sent shivers down his spine as his wolf observed with seductive knowledge, “Your pretty little cock doesn’t have your reservations, hunter.” His stupidly cocky, no, monsterly cocky wolf (as the wolf pressed hard against his ass again) ran his hot hand caressingly over Dean’s entire cock then between Dean’s automatically splayed legs to gently caress and cup his balls, rolling them gently in the process.

“Bet you could come from just this,” Derek observed with slight amusement that surprisingly only added to Dean’s arousal. “This and me playing with these . . .” His other hand lightly pinched and rolled his left nipple, eliciting another pleasured moan from the edging hunter. “You know how much you love me playing with these, don’t you?” Derek whispered seductively against that special spot behind his ear. “How long do you think it will take?” His wolf prodded teasingly while his large wolf hands played his hunter’s body like a well-known instrument.

Dean let out another pleasured groan as his head fell back against his wolf’s shoulder, knowing his wolf would hold him up. He knew he wouldn’t last much longer but he refused to come under these terms. He couldn’t, knowing what it would mean if he did.

“Come for me, Dean,” Derek cajoled huskily in his ear. “Now.”

Dean’s body responded instantly to the command, proving once and for all who was actually in control here. His stomach tightened as his testicles drew up and his body jerked while his treacherous cock spurted thick jets of hot cum into his wolf’s satin cupped hand. He let out a hoarse pleasured cry and felt his wolf’s pleased rumble all around and through him, causing more cum to erupt out of him.

“Fuck,” Dean panted out breathlessly as his body went lax against the wolf.

Derek turned Dean’s face toward him and rewarded him with a deep, thorough kiss. Dean lazily responded through the pleasured haze that engulfed him. He sighed with pleasure as his eyes slowly closed. He loved this contented feeling and wanted it to last much longer than it ever did.

Derek smirked with lazy amusement at the relaxed, content face of his hunter then slowly lowered him down to rest on the hood of the Impala. He flipped up the back of the velvet shirt and tucked it into the leather belt so that it didn’t hinder his view of his hunter’s tightly satin clad ass. He slowly caressed the beautiful view and heard his hunter’s unbidden hum of pleasure. He smirked slightly at how much more responsive Dean was after a good orgasm.

He frowned slightly at the very damp satin, trailing down the inside of the hunter’s legs. He sniffed suspiciously but could only scent the two of them. He remembered that they did do a lot last night so it could be left over from that.

Of course that memory reminded him of his original plan just as his impatient hunter wiggled his tight, satiny ass invitingly. He smirked against and allowed his claws to come out of his right hand. He placed his left hand on his hunter’s left cheek to make sure the hunter didn’t move while he used his claws to rip the satin seam directly over his hunter’s entrance.

“’Bout time,” Dean muttered sluggishly into his baby’s hood, apparently believing that Derek was letting him out of the tights.

 _He couldn’t be more wrong_ , Derek thought smugly as he retracted his claws and slowly moved his fingers into the hole that he created. He slipped two fingers into his hunter’s dripping entrance with no warning. Dean cursed instantly but Derek felt little resistance, proving that he was correct in assuming that his hunter was still stretched sufficiently from the previous evening.

Apparently Dean agreed since he growled out harshly, “Stop screwing around. I’m good.”

“Dean,” Derek started reluctantly but Dean turned and glared at him. Derek shook his head but moved into position, commenting casually as he slipped his cock through the satiny hole and on into his hunter’s hungry one, “You know, you’re really a pain in the ass.”

“Fuck!” Dean cursed violently as Derek pushed his cock balls deep into Dean. He felt his hunter’s channel contract and spasm around his sensitive cock. He let out a pleasured groan while he waited for his hunter to adjust.

A breath later, Dean snapped impatiently, “You fall asleep or what?”

“As if anyone could fall as sleep in a sweet ass like yours,” Derek countered tightly while he slowly pulled out, only to quickly thrust back in. Dean sighed out a relieved but pleasure groan then relaxed back against his baby to enjoy the second inning. Derek gripped his hunter’s hips tightly and swiftly set up a pounding rhythm, causing Dean to become much more vocal.

Dean’s eyes rolled back in pleasure as he felt the massive cock inside him start to grow more at the base. He hummed with pleasured anticipation before he finally realized they weren’t back in a hotel, it wasn’t nighttime and they were in the middle of a hunt which meant soon . . .

“Derek, we don’t have a lot of time here so you’d damn well better not knot my ass,” Dean growled out warningly.

“Too late,” Derek gritted out through his teeth as he felt his hunter’s channel lock his cock firmly in place then precede to milk it for all the cum it could.

They both cursed in unison as their orgasms took them away into a pleasure-filled haze of endorphins.

\------------------ SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

_ 1 _ _Borrowed without permission from “Robin of Sherwood” BBC._

Sorry about the shameless smut at the end but come on, Dean in skin tight tights. Who honestly could resist ‘hitting’ that? ;-)

**_I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think._ ** **_J_ **

**_For those of you impatiently wondering, Sammy will show up in the next chapter._ **


	14. Sword Surprise

The gentle nibbling of lips against Dean’s sweat cooled neck brought a dreamy smile to Dean’s face that he’d forever, vehemently, deny ever having had. He let out a very sated sigh against Derek’s neck, enjoying the continued pleasurable attention from his wolf. He didn’t even realize he’d sort of dozed off until the wolf had awakened him but somehow he knew that Derek had definitely been cuddling with him the whole time.

 _His wolf was such a girl_ , Dean smirked mentally then added reluctantly as he acknowledged that he was still more than a little exhausted. _With stupid supernatural wolf endurance._

Firing what little brain cells he had left in his post-orgasmic hazed brain, he estimated he’d probably cum more in the past three days than he had all year. He hadn’t had that kind of reaction time since he was a teenager. Considering he was in his late-thirties, he was more than a little impressed with himself.

Currently, Derek sat on the ground, resting his back against the Impala’s front passenger tire, with Dean straddling him on top. Sometime during their interlude against his baby, Derek apparently had turned them so that he could slide down to the ground and wait out their knotting. Now, though, Dean could tell that their time was almost up since the knot inside him didn’t feel nearly as full and he could feel a small amount of cum leaking out of him. Even so, his lower body was almost bloated slightly from being so full of cum that had been pumping into him over. It was a feeling that vaguely disturbed him while it also comforted him, and slightly turned him on, way more than it should.

            “Dean,” Derek started softly then, after a short pause which yielded no response from the hunter, he added with slight amusement, “I know you are awake.”

            “Hmm,” Dean hummed reluctantly against the wolf’s neck, savoring its unique scent that just seemed to get better and better after every interlude. He barely moved closer to the wolf’s body heat, enjoying the warmth, but he definitely wasn’t cuddling back. Also, he really didn’t feel like talking right now, even he knew that he probably wouldn’t be able to get out of it. He also knew that he really shouldn’t try, considering they were on something of a clock, especially with Sam on his way. Boy, did that thought cool Dean down drastically.

            “Where did you go earlier?” Derek questioned curiously, unaware of his companion’s train of thought.

            Dean frowned slightly over that question and reluctantly lifted his head to look the wolf in the face as he wondered uncertainly with a slightly hoarse, deep voice, “What do you mean?”

            “When you were on the Nemeton and grabbed the angel sword, you just disappeared,” Derek explained intently. “Where did you go?”

            “So that actually happened?” Dean verified intently. Derek nodded solemnly. Dean responded vaguely, “Huh.” Then after a long pause, about the time Derek was going to prod him again, he verified verbally once again, “Seriously?”

            Derek rolled his eyes in obvious exasperation and started to answer when muted heavy metal rifts sounded to the side of them. Dean exhaled heavily as he turned to his left where some of his discarded ‘clothes’, and he used that term very loosely in this instance, had been tossed during their interlude. He noticed Derek trying to reach behind his back and, after a moment, his hand came back up with Dean’s phone in it.

            “Please tell me that you did not just pull that out of your ass,” Dean commented ruefully as he took it from the wolf.

            “Okay, I won’t,” Derek snarked back mockingly.

            Dean rolled his eyes, suppressing a smile in the process, then sighed heavily at the metal rifts still sounding. He slowly stood up, pulling off Derek’s deflating knot with a pained groan, as white hot soreness flared out of his very abused ass. It actually felt like he might have seriously damaged something, both inside and outside, this last time.

He snapped out with his gripe automatically as he turned away and pushed the answer button on his phone, “Son of a . . . Oh, you are so cutoff for, like . . .”

            “Ever,” Derek interrupted with cold abruptness. “Yea. I know. Heard you the first twenty times so . . . not news. I’ll get you clothes.”

            Dean swung around in surprise at the abrupt outburst to check his wolf’s face at his first words but Derek already had his back to him while the wolf headed to the trunk of the Impala. He frowned heavily but heard someone yelling at him from his phone. He exhaled wearily, making a mental note to talk to the wolf later, before he snapped into his phone much harsher than he intended to, “What?”

            “Dean,” a voice he now recognized as Argent’s snapped back with irritated relief. “Thank God. You’re not dead.”

            “What the . . .” He trailed off in confusion then shook his head and demanded abruptly, “What are you talking about? Of course, I’m not dead. Why does everyone assume . . .”

            “Well, we weren’t sure,” Chris interrupted with a hint of sarcasm, “considering you said that you would meet back up with us after Deaton and he told us you left there hours ago.”

            Dean rolled his eyes as he growled back irritably, “Didn’t know I was on a clock, Mom. Got distracted.”

            “So, did _not_ need to know that. What are you? A teenager?” Chris retorted disdainfully. “Can’t you wait until after the hunt? Use your own personal time.”

            Dean seethed for a moment, only to see clothes thrust into his field of vision. He yanked them away with a quick nod of thanks before he hissed warningly into the phone, “I already told you once. That’s none of your business. Bring it up again, to _anyone_ , and you won’t like the consequences.” He paused for a brief moment to let that sink in while he yanked on his jeans, noticing that Derek had given him his dirty ones from yesterday thankfully.

            “Now,” Dean continued with less frustration as he got himself back under control, “who is we?”

            “Stilinski is here with me,” Chris informed him in a slight more reserved tone. “Where are you?”

            Dean started to answer, only to have his phone beep at him. He rolled his eyes again and told Argent, “Hold that thought.” He switched over to see who was calling him while he pulled on his shirt. “Yea?”

            “Dean,” Sam verified impatiently.

            “Sam,” Dean returned in kind. “Where are you?”

            “About thirty minutes out,” Sam answered quickly. “Where are you?”

            “In between things,” Dean answered vaguely. “Look, I’m on the phone with Argent about to arrange a meeting for updates. Can you hold for a location?”

            “Yea, sure,” Sam replied quickly.

            “’Kay, be right back,” Dean promised quickly before switching back over. “Okay. I’m back. Sam, my brother, is about thirty minutes out and wanting to meet up. I’m getting hungry so how about meeting at the diner on the East side of town in about thirty?”

            “You want to discuss all of this in the middle of a crowded diner at lunch time?” Chris verified with disbelief. “That the way you two normally do things?”

            “Normally, we discuss it in the car or our motel room,” Dean answered dryly. “Be a little crowded with all of us in either of those. Besides, if the diner is crowded, there will be too much going on for anyone to really pay attention to us.”

            “Possibly, but I’d rather be sure,” Chris countered firmly. “We’ll meet at my house. I’ll text you the address and go get food in the meantime. See you in thirty. _”_

            “Dick,” Dean observed snidely at the click, signaling the elder hunter hanging up on him. He thought he heard Derek chuff lightly at the comment but when he turned back around, Derek stood a few feet from him with his arms crossed and no expression on his face. In one of his hands, he held the stupid green outfit from earlier.

            “Dean!”

            Dean mentally shook himself at Sam’s call when his phone automatically switched over to his waiting call. He quickly relayed the meeting information to Sam. He suggested that they meet up at Dean’s new motel on the north side of town.

            “Why the motel?” Sam prodded curiously. “Why not just meet at Argent’s?”

            “’Cause I need a quick shower,” Dean barked out irritably. “And I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to drive a hot car to a meet that the local sheriff is attending. Alright?”

            “Good point. Fine,” Sam huffed out. “See you in thirty.”

            “Later,” Dean signed off quickly and closed the line.

He slipped the phone into his pocket and looked Derek in the eye but, before he could say anything, Derek announced briskly, “I’m going to go make sure that Peter took care of the Darack. Want us to go ahead and burn the corpse.”

Dean stared directly into the wolf’s indifferent green eyes and mentally sighed. If he was going to stay . . . but they both knew the score so Dean ignored his misguided feelings, stowing them away in the lockbox he kept deep inside him, and answered clinically, “I’m fine with that but, judging Argent’s mistrust of wolves, you in particular, it would probably be better to let him and the sheriff check the body first. Plus, we need to keep the burning of the body hidden until after the cult’s taken out. Don’t want them to get a hint and vacate.”

Derek gave a slight nod then turned to leave. He’d only taken a few steps before Dean called out without even realizing it, “Derek.” Derek stopped instantly and waited a moment before he finally turned to find out what was going on with the hunter.

Dean stared at the wolf that he’d gotten way too close to. Everything he wanted to say on the tip of his tongue but he knew he had to hold it back. He had to hold it back because he did care way too much for the wolf. Hold it back because one night was nothing. There was no forever for him. Ever.

In the end, he simply told him, “Feel free to burn those, though. The sooner, the better.”

Derek’s lips twitched slightly and he arched an eyebrow like he was going to taunt Dean. Instead, he only offered blithely, “Remember, De, one night is nothing.” He turned away and offered over his shoulder, “I’ll meet you at the motel. We still need to talk.”

“About what?” he called back with foreboding but the wolf had already left the clearing. He grumbled to himself under his breath as he limped over to the driver’s side door and climbed into his baby, “Stupid overemotional pup. Talk, my ass. What the hell is he? A girl.” He gingerly sat down in the driver’s seat, started up his baby and then headed back to town.

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

As much as Dean wanted to linger in the relaxing hot shower, to soak some of his more abused muscles, he washed off quickly. He knew he didn’t have that much time with Sam being on his way. Luckily it didn’t take that much time for him to check into the new motel. He swiftly dressed and armed himself before heading outside to wait by his baby.

It was a nice winter day that wasn’t too cold and the sun shined brightly. He leaned against his baby’s trunk and checked his watch when he felt a presence near him. He was becoming more and more familiar with this particular presence.

He smirked and taunted lightly, “Why not come join me, furball?”

Derek turned the corner of the building as he rebutted in kind, “Was planning on it.”

“So what do we need to talk about?” Dean started casually before adding as an afterthought. “You do know that saying that we needed to talk was totally a chick move, right?”

Derek leaned against the trunk next to Dean with his arms crossed and looked Dean in the eye, stating impatiently, “Not really caring at this point since we don’t have a lot of time left.”

Dean frowned at the pointed, if caustic, reminder then offered honestly, “I’m not changing the channel.”

Derek gave a brief acknowledging nod before he explained tightly, “I heard you use _the_ spell again, at the Nemeton, but I didn’t hear you say any name at the end. Did you say one in your head or something?” Dean’s frown deepened as he tried to remember what he did back then while Derek continued intently, “Because Cas seemed adamant that you could not contain the grace within you so where exactly did it go, Dean? Gabriel? Is that why you thought it was him messing with you? Considering that both you and Cas are still saying he’s dead and all . . .”

Dean glanced down at the ground a moment thoughtfully before he refocused on Derek. He licked his lips wet before he answered hesitantly, “I . . . the first time, I didn’t . . . I don’t . . .” He trailed off with a shrug before he continued with more certainty, “But the second and third one, I did think about Gabriel. Mostly, though, I didn’t have time to actually say anything because the other ones were on me too quickly after each spell.”

“Wait. What?” Derek ordered slowly. “You said it more than once? Why the hell would you say a spell that Cas told you specifically not to say more than once? Are you completetly insane? Or do you just have a death wish?”

“No, I don’t have a death wish. Why is everyone always asking me that?” Dean huffed with exasperation.

“Maybe because a lot of your actions imply that you do,” Derek countered tightly. “Why else would you keep using something that a freakin’ angel tells you not to?”

“Maybe because each time I could only get to one of the asshats,” Dean exploded defensively but they both could hear the slightly uncertain undertone. “Spell only works once each time. As soon as one of the dicks touch me, or I touch them, the spell acts on them then ends when we break contact.”

“Which is why you should’ve called Cas to begin with,” Derek gritted out irritably. “Or me. Why the hell would you . . . wait, don’t you have to prep for that spell? Did you? Did you know they were coming? When did you prep for it, Dean?”

Dean wet his lips again nervously as the earlier fugue state started to make sense. That was why he was in his trunk right before Derek caught up to him. But what had tipped him off to that? Was something else controlling him? Why couldn’t he remember any of it?

“Dean!” Derek demanded irately.

“I. Don’t. Know.” Dean gritted out tautly. “Okay? I don’t know, damn it. No, I didn’t know they were coming. Yes, there’s supposed to be prep. No, I’m not sure what the hell was happening. I just know it worked. Okay?”

“No, it’s not okay,” Derek growled out harshly. “How can it possibly be okay when you don’t even know when you are using a ‘God’ spell that angels don’t want you to use? When you don’t even have a damn clue how it is affecting you? That’s death wish stuff, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still breathing,” Dean bit out stubbornly. “In one piece and no worse for wear so ‘go team’, right?”

Derek’s eyes flashed and he growled out angrily, “Wrong.”

A late model black charger pulled into the parking lot and parked right beside them, pulling them both out of their confrontation. Derek glanced over as the driver’s door opened then warned Dean tightly, “This isn’t over.” Derek turned to leave the brothers to their reunion before he did something that he’d regret to the stubborn, cocky hunter who had gotten way too deep under his skin.

“Where are you going?” Dean demanded irritably.

“To talk to Scott and the others,” Derek tossed back shortly over his shoulder as he disappeared around the corner of the building.

“The meet’s at Argent’s in like ten minutes, you know, but I’ll send your regrets, you dick,” Dean bit back, trying not to lose his temper over his temperamental wolf. He didn’t get an immediate response so he let out an explosive curse before turning to the new arrival. He saw Sam walking around the back of the charger and instinctively checked his brother over for any sign of injury.

“What was that all about?” Sam asked casually as he leaned against the trunk of the Impala beside his brother. Sam had done the same check over his older brother and didn’t notice any areas for concern. That never meant that Dean wasn’t hiding his injuries, though. That was something Sam was well familiar with.

“Nothing,” Dean dismissed lightly. “Why don’t you stow your stuff in the room and we’ll ditch that on the way?” Dean offered as he tossed Sam the room key and motioned to the charger. “We need to head out.”

Sam studied his brother’s closed expression and, after a moment, Sam gave a slight shrug then hurried to do what his brother suggested. In less than five minutes, they were both heading out of the motel parking lot. They ditched the hot car in a gas station parking lot then made their way to the Argent’s apartment.

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

“Come on in, gentleman,” Argent invited them cordially as he opened the door for them. He stood back to allow Dean and Sam to enter. Stilinski was standing a couple of feet away in the hallway.

Dean nodded slightly at them and introduced briskly, “This is my brother, Sam. Sam, this is Chris Argent, local hunter, and the Beacon Hills’s Sheriff, Stilinski.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Sam greeted them pleasantly and shook each man’s hand while Dean rolled his eyes slightly.

“Where’s Derek?” Argent questioned suspiciously after the handshaking was done.

“Where’s the food?” Dean responded in kind, sniffing the air which reeked of hamburgers. His stomach growled nosily. He definitely hadn’t been eating enough for all the activity, hunting and otherwise, that he’d been doing.

“In the dining room,” Argent answered tightly with a motion of his hand.

Dean immediately headed that way, tossing over his shoulder as he went, “Derek went to let Scott know about this. We can catch them up after school, once we get a plan together.”

Dean entered the dining room and quickly sat down to dig into the burger and fries set out for each of them. He took a huge bite and moaned out his pleasure nosily. He closed his eyes and relished the flavor, feeling like he hadn’t eaten in a few days.

“Dean,” Sam hissed out in a scolding tone. “We’re in public, dude. Could you lower the volume on your food porn for once? Please? It’s embarrassing.” He glanced around and saw the other two men try not to smile over the interaction.

“Just because you’re a prude, Sammy, doesn’t mean everyone else is,” Dean taunted back with his mouthful.

“Don’t talk with your mouthful,” Sam chided tightly. “And don’t call me Sammy.”

Dean rolled his eyes before he swallowed and snarked, “Whatever, Mom.” He took large gulp of his drink then another huge bite, effectively shutting down the possibility of discussion, until after he’d eaten his meal.

“Dude, when’s the last time you ate?” Sam wondered with concern as he watched his brother inhaling his food.

“Breakfast tacos this morning,” Dean recited distractedly. “Been eating normal, mostly, you know, for us. Just really hungry.”

            “I’ll say,” Stilinski butted in dryly. “You’re giving me angina.”

            Dean smirked slightly as he finished his burger then started on his fries while he asked casually, “So, what’s new?”

            Argent narrowed his eyes thoughtfully and prompted firmly, “Why don’t you tell us? Especially since you seem to know a lot more than we do about what’s going on. Be sure to include what distracted you from our meet earlier.”

            Dean stared into Argent’s knowing eyes and answered easily, “You want to know about that? Fine. More featherheads came after me. Wanted retribution from what happened to their own yesterday.”

            “Why didn’t you tell us you needed help?” Stilinski snapped irritably.

            “Because I didn’t,” Dean reiterated firmly. “I’ve told you both before that those winged-asshats are my business. Not yours. That still holds true.”

            “Angels?” Sam verified uneasily.

            Dean nodded then expounded briskly, “Wanted me to give them Cas. Still haven’t learned after all these years, huh, Sam?” Sam gave a tight smile, causing Dean to add, “But they won’t be back. Took care of the last one and sent them a warning. We’ll be safe until after the hunt at least.”

            “Are you sure?” Sam verified tautly.

            “Positive,” Dean confirmed convincingly.

            “So what do we have to deal with then?” Stilinski questioned curiously.

            Dean pushed his plate away and leaned forward on his elbow, braced on the table, as he summarized, “Well, the spell, or ritual, rather, that was cast on the teens is irreversible so you can thank your Mr. Deaton for that one.”

            “What spell?” Sam asked curiously.

            Dean gave him a cliff notes version then added for the parents, “It’s irreversible because he actually did kill the teens for a few moments so what came back with them is what always comes back when you play with the veil. That’ll be something they just have to live with but what’s making their bad situation worse is the cult that moved in.”

            “What cult?” Argent asked tightly.

            “Cult? What about the vampires?” Stilinski wondered with confusion.

            “Cult? Vamps? What the hell is going on here, Dean?” Sam questioned curiously.

            “The vamps aren’t the main concern right now,” Dean argued patiently, answering the Sheriff’s questions first. Then he turned to Sam and explained, “The spell used gave power to this area. Supernatural power. Now creatures are drawn to it. Ganked a wraith this morning in the hospital. Have a pack of vamps and a cult on top of the wolves that were here to begin with.”

            He finally turned to Argent and started to answer when his cell phone rang. He sighed heavily and told Argent, “Hold that thought.” Then he answered with slight impatience, “What now?”

            “Answer the door, Dean,” Derek ordered from the other side of the line before hanging up on him.

            Dean frowned in confusion as he pulled his phone away from his ear to stare at it. A single knock sounded on the door and Dean rolled his eyes, even as he stopped Argent from getting up. “I got it.” He left the room, mumbling about stupid, freakin’ wolves under his breath.

            He yanked the door open and glared at the obstinate wolf before he barked out in a low voice, “What the hell are you doing here? Thought you were supposed to be somewhere else.”

            Derek brushed passed him and countered tightly, “You think I want to be. Have information.”

            Dean exhaled heavily and relented with resignation, “This way.” Derek followed him into the dining room where Dean automatically resumed his previous conversation, “I don’t know what cult we are dealing with, Argent. Not up to date with them but I do know they’ve been using the Nemeton for their gatherings.”

Derek found a place to stand by against the wall by the door, positioning himself so that he could see Dean’s face and watch Argent at the same time. He casually folded his arms over his chest and lounged back against the wall, waiting his turn. As he waited, he tried to size up Dean’s brother, noticing as he sniffed slightly, that he could detect the grace of the angel possessing Sam.

            “How do you know that?” Argent wondered curiously.

            “Saw signs of it last night,” Dean offered but left out that he’d been there again today. “I believe that they are using both the Nemeton’s and the Darack’s power to control Scott and possibly Allison and Stiles by association.”

            “What’s a Nemeton? Or a Darack?” Sam inquired at an obvious loss.

            “How are they using the Darack’s power?” Argent prodded disbelievingly.

            “Darack, evil druid. Nemeton, old cut-down oak tree that was converted into a supernatural power source,” Dean advised quickly.

            Derek answered Argent’s question casually, “Peter found the Darack’s body today in the woods, not too far from the Nemeton. Its head had been hacked off and is still missing.”

            “We think the cult leader has the head,” Dean finished off before he turned to Sam and introduced easily, “Sam, Derek Hale. His family are residents of Beacon Hills and have been for a long while. They also were the area pack. Derek, my brother, Sam.”

Derek and Sam nodded in each other’s direction before Sam pointed out uncertainly, “Were?”

Dean shook his head at Sam before he returned to his discussion with Argent, “I think the cult will meeting again tonight since it’s a full moon. We need the wolves to see if they can pick up any of the scents before we plot the actual trap.”

“Might be a problem with that idea now,” Derek interrupted abruptly. “That’s why I came over.”

“What?” Dean asked with dread.

“Ethan talked to me after I left Scott,” Derek informed them. “Apparently, Scott spent most of the night in the woods looking for something. They didn’t call us because he wasn’t harming anyone or anything but he also was unresponsive to them. Said he just kept searching the woods around the Nemeton for most of the night. Trying to catch the scent of something but they could never tell what. When he was asked this morning about it, he had no clue what they were talking about.”

Dean rubbed a hand over his mouth during the disclosure then finally muttered with a great deal of dread, “Crap.”

Everyone’s eyes landed on him and Sam prodded impatiently, “Wanna share with the class, Dean?”

Dean cut a quick glare at him then a quick glance at Derek before he cleared his throat nervously and answered hesitantly, “I, uh, well, I kinda had a . . . well, encounter, I guess, with . . . something . . . and . . .”

“Dean,” Sam prompted harshly.

“What?” Dean snapped irritably before he barked out in kind. “I could’ve sworn it was freakin’ Gabriel, and, yes, I know he’s dead, but still . . .” He trailed off and saw Sam’s bitch face number 24 so he got it together and blurted out, “A freakin’ pagan god talked to me, okay? Her-some . . . Herse . . .”

Derek arched his eyebrows in surprise and clarified incredulously, “Herne? Herne the Hunter?”

“No,” Dean snapped impatiently then amended tightly, “Well, yeah, Herne, but he said he was Lord of the . . . Woods? No, wait . . . Lord. Of the . . . Trees.” He snapped his fingers and stated firmly, “That’s it. Herne, Lord of the Trees.”

Derek nodded sagely and added, “He’s also called Herne, the Hunter, according to the stories my mother told. He’s a pagan god worshipped by early European settlers. He’s supposed to be benevolent. They prayed to him at the site of the Nemeton for bountiful harvests and hunts.”

“Sacrifices?” Dean clarified intently.

“Crops and livestock,” Derek answered easily. “Nothing human to my knowledge.” He slanted his eyes over toward Argent as he added acidly, “Could ask her . . . if someone hadn’t burned her, and most of my family, alive.”

Dean shot a glance between the two and knew he needed to quickly bring this discussion back to the actual topic. He interceded pointedly, “We can look that up later. The point is this . . . Herne, god, thing said that the cult needed a . . . sword, a special sword, to fulfill its purpose.” He shot a meaningful glance at Sam.

“What, Dean?” Sam prodded with a great deal of dread. “What purpose?”

Dean exhaled heavily then answered reluctantly, “Free Lucifer. They want to let the damn devil out of the box again.” Sam stared at him with his mouth slightly agape at the implication but Dean continued through it, “And, as you and I both know, if they pop Luce out, Mickey comes with, and, bing, bam, boom, it’s Apocalypse Now in a theater near you, all over again.”

“Seriously?” Sam gasped in disbelief. “Are they insane?”

“You’re talking about what happened before, right?” Stilinski assumed hesitantly.

“Yep,” Dean admitted bluntly. “Only difference is that this time, Sam’s not saying, ‘yes’, because we aren’t letting this happen. Not this time.”

“Dean,” Sam cautioned firmly.

“No, Sam,” Dean cut him off abruptly. “All we have to do is keep the sword out of their hands. Gang these stupid cult SOBs, fry us a Darack, extra crispy, then kill us some vamps on the way out of town. You got me?” Sam stared solemnly into Dean’s eyes for a long moment before he nodded in agreement.

The others had stared at the brothers for the duration, struck by the intense undercurrent flowing between the two. It hinted strongly at seriously bad memories that they didn’t want to intrude on. But there were still some issues to work out for the planning.

“That’s all well and good,” Argent interrupted hesitantly, “but how exactly are we going to get the sword to begin with?”

Dean’s eyes shot over to Derek who was waiting for it. As soon as their eyes met, Derek had his answer and quickly dropped his eyes to the ground. He knew then what Dean was probably going to do. And he hated it.

With sudden inspiration, he guessed accurately, “That’s what Scott’s looking for. They’re having Scott try to scent it out.”

“A sword smells?” Stilinski asked with disbelief.

“Yes,” Derek answered solemnly, causing Stilinski to blink at him in surprise, while Dean hid a slight smile.

“So we need to find it first,” Argent concluded reasonably before he prodded Dean, “Did this ‘Herne’ character give you any hints to where it is?”

“Yea, uh,” Dean started nervously. “No . . . no hints . . .”

“Dean,” Sam warned firmly with the unspoken order.

“What?” Dean tried to evade but one look at Sam’s bitchface 42 and he folded. “Damn it, it’s not my fault he gave it to me. Actually, he more made it out of my favorite colt, damn it. Still going to kick his stag ass for that. That was my favorite . . . Dad gave me that freakin’ gun!”

“Dean!” Sam snapped abruptly. “Focus.”

Dean glared at him in retaliation. Sam, of all people, should know how much that gun meant to him. He was going to find a way to get it back, even if he had to kill this stupid god.

“Where is it now?” Argent asked curiously.

“Safe,” Dean offered automatically then noticed that everyone who was staring at him before he finally relented with an eye roll and a weary sigh, “Fine. I’ll go get it.”

With that, he turned and left the room in a huff, mumbling under his breath as he went. Derek had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at his sulking hunter. No, not his. He sighed and wondered curiously, “So what’s the plan?”

Stilinski arched his eyebrows curiously before turning toward Argent who shrugged then offered vaguely, “Seems like Dean scouted out the area already. Probably should wait for him to come back before we plan. What did you tell Scott and the others?”

“That we all needed to meet at the Nemeton after school,” Derek related easily. “Danny will let the Coach know that the twins got sick and had to leave school early. They all should be there be there in an hour.”

“That gives us time to come up with a plan, then,” Argent concluded thoughtfully.

“What do you think, Sam?” Stilinski asked curiously.

Sam gave him a disbelieving face before he commented reasonably, “I’m still trying to catch up. Last time we had this much in one hunt, it was the Trickster. . .” He trailed off with a heavy frown.

Derek looked over at Sam as he trailed off before he advised, “Both Dean and Cas, who he talked to about this, were investigating that angle but everything they’ve found still hints at the Trickster being dead. And what he said about the Nemeton was true. Deaton’s spell did give it power that does attract the supernatural.”

“Considering Dean took care of the wraith this morning and we still have three other ‘things’ to take care of, I’m definitely convinced,” Stilinski input sagely.

“Doesn’t take much, does it?” Argent prodded cynically.

“Nope, being held as a dark druid’s sacrifice tends to increase one’s range of believability rather quickly,” Stilinski countered in kind. “Not to mention Scott and Issac. And Derek, of course.”

Derek ignored the mention as he tilted his head to listen. After a moment, he announced to the room at large, “Dean just exited the elevator.”

Sam blinked at Derek then heard the door open and close. Dean’s booted footsteps echoed in the hallway. He turned to see Dean enter with a sheathed sword.

Dean approached the table then pulled the sword out of its sheath. He held it upright for a moment, studying the name in the sword which he hadn’t noticed before. He noticed the weight and balance of the sword felt perfect in his hand, like it was meant to be.

“Dean,” Sam snapped loudly next to his ear, causing Dean to realize that they’d been calling his name.

Dean shook his head and carefully laid the sword on the table in front of the others. He automatically recited to them, “This is Albion, one of the seven swords of Wayland. Supposed to be charged with the powers of light and darkness. Whatever that means.” He just happened to glance up at Derek who arched his eyebrows in an inquiring manner which caused Dean to shrug nonchalantly then add, “Well, that’s what the stag-man thing told me anyway.”

“That must have been some conversation you had with Herne,” Argent commented.

“Hey, Dean, my laptop,” Sam reminded Dean with a motion toward the bag on his shoulder.

“Oh, yea,” Dean mumbled slightly as he handed the bag over to Sam. He tensed as Argent reached out and grabbed up the sword. He watched protectively as Argent tested the weight and balance of the sword.

Stilinski asked curiously, “Can you smell this sword, Derek?” Derek gave a slow nod but Stilinski prodded, “How does it smell different than others?”

“Old magic,” Derek, Argent and Dean all stated together.

Argent nodded and explained softly, “You can feel the difference. It has a . . . different feel to it. A different sense.”

“What do you think our play should be, Dean?” Stilinski inquired curiously.

“When the wolves are available, we should have them check the Nemeton for scents and try to figure out what path they take. If we can figure that out, we can set a trap up for them,” Dean analyzed tactically.

“Dean, we don’t know how many there are,” Sam cautioned. “Much less, what they are?”

“What do you mean, ‘what they are’?” Stilinski clarified with a hint of nervousness.

“I’m sure some are human but more than likely the leader is demonic, or . . . angelic,” Dean hypothesized reluctantly.

“Angelic?” Sam prodded disbelievingly.

“Think about it, Sam,” Dean pointed out encouragingly. “I mean, who started the first one? Who allowed it all to happen?”

“But that makes no sense,” Sam argued adamantly as Stilinski verified incredulously, “The angels started the apocalypse?”

“What doesn’t make sense?” Dean prodded impatiently. “If it happens, whoever wins get their version of paradise. If the angels get it, they probably think that it will open Heaven back up at best. At worse, they get Mikey back and he can go kick Metatron’s ass out of Heaven then open it back up for business. So, tell me, why wouldn’t they do this?”

“Crap,” Sam commented in acquiesce as he bowed his head in resignation.

But Dean wasn’t finished as he added hypothetically, “Hell, they probably picked the Nemeton on purpose because of the added power it could give them.”

“To quote Chuck, ‘this sucks ass’,” Sam muttered with resignation.

“Agreed,” Dean allowed shortly as he held his hand out for the sword which Argent reluctantly handed back to him. He sheathed it while he asked Derek, “Is there any chances of the wolves picking up their scents?”

Derek frowned slightly before he hedged uncertainly, “Not sure, considering how many other things have been in the area recently, like the vamps we encountered last night. But it won’t hurt to try, as long as you stay here.”

“What the hell do you . . .” Dean snapped out irritably but Derek interrupted forcefully, “If Scott is after the sword and you bring it with you, which you would, it’s the same as giving it to the cult. If you don’t bring it with you, where are you going to store it where you are sure it will be safe?”

“Sam can look after it while he’s researching it and this Herne guy,” Dean argued firmly. “Right?”

Sam gave him a questioning look but gave a slight nod, adding, “It wouldn’t hurt to make sure Herne’s story checks out. And, what did you say these swords are?”

“The Swords of Wayland. Whatever the hell that means,” Dean reiterated cynically.

“Have any of you heard of them before?” Sam asked curiously, centering his looks between Derek and Argent. Dean followed the looks as well, also curious.

“I’ve never heard of most of this before,” Stilinski snorted out disbelievingly.

Derek shook his head and verified his answer with an abrupt, “No.”

“I haven’t either,” Argent answered contemplatively before adding, “So it really should be researched. I have archives and the bestiary from Gerard that I can search through so I can stay with Sam if we aren’t finished in time to meet up with the wolves. I’ll have Allison come here and help us with it.”

Dean gave Argent a meaningful look but Sam accepted the elder hunter’s help easily, “That would help. The more we know before the cult surfaces, the better.”

Dean nervously bit his lower lip but quickly realized that anything he could say in response to that would only make matters worse. He barely managed not to flinch when Argent’s eyes met his. All he could do was hope that they concentrated on the research and Argent heard, and heeded, his last warning.

“I’ll call Peter,” Derek offered easily, well aware of the tension flowing between the two hunters as well as the source. He was also well aware that there was nothing he could do about it that wouldn’t make the situation worse so he continued, “He has our family’s bestiary. He can look through it as well while he’s babysitting the Darack.”

Dean arched a surprise eyebrow as he broke contact with Argent’s stare and swung over to Derek. “I thought you already owed him for the corpse. You really want to get in deeper debt with creepy uncle?”

Derek had already pulled out his phone and was dialing it. He shrugged without concern while countered evasively, “Whatever it is that Peter wants me to do, he’ll have me do, regardless. At least this way I’ll get something out of it.”

“Do you know what he wants?” Dean wondered with concern.

“No clue,” Derek dismissed without missing a beat. “But whatever it is, it won’t be good because if it was good, or easy, he’d never ask me for help.”

In the next instant, he called into the phone, “Hey. It’s me. Have something to keep you busy. Yeah, I know. I owe you . . .”

Stilinski drew attention back to him as he inquired curiously, “So what exactly is the plan for the wolves? Because it looks like you all could be researching while I direct them.”

Dean scoffed humorously, “Naw. Research is Sam’s thing. Me and books . . . unless I’m burning them, we really don’t get along. Don’t you remember what I said about the school thing . . . damn, was that really this morning?”

“Yeah, it was,” Stilinski replied with slight humor.

Dean ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily while he remarked rhetorically, “Where does the time go?” Then he shook himself slightly and continued briskly, “No, I can help you with the grunt work because that’s my thing.” He ignored Sam’s questioning look. “We’ll meet up with the tweenies and fan out in a spiral from the Nemeton. Hopefully they will pick up a good scent and we can figure out how they generally arrive. If it’s from one direction, or different directions, will obviously alter how we set the trap.”

“Are we going to try to prevent them from meeting?” Stilinski questioned further.

“Depends,” Dean hedged evasively. “If they have the other six swords with them, we can take the swords since they seem to be the key and destroy them all or something. If they don’t have them with them, I’m not sure we should stop them before we know where everything is. Right?”

Stilinski sighed and nodded as he answered with resignation, “Yeah. I see what you mean.”

“On the plus side, we almost have a wolf for each sword so . . .”

“We’d have a wolf for each if we included Peter,” Argent countered reluctantly.

“True,” Dean allowed hesitantly, “but how many of the others are okay with him fighting with us? And who will watch the corpse during the fight? Because we really don’t need them getting their hands on it again and chopping off more pieces.”

“Good point,” Argent conceded easily.

“You really think they’re using the head in their ceremony,” Stilinski verified uneasily.

“Wouldn’t be the first time we’ve seen something like that,” Sam confirmed wearily.

“Or worse,” Dean added with disgust.

“I’ll meet you there,” Derek interjected as he hung up his phone. Dean cast him a questioning look to which Derek informed him, “Peter needs his laptop which is at his apartment. I’m going to run it over to him then I’ll meet up at the Nemeton.”

Dean gave a quick nod and Derek quickly left the room without a single glance back. Dean wasn’t sure what he thought about that but made sure nothing showed on his face. He should be very relieved that the wolf was following his rules so perfectly. He should be . . .

Of course, the first eyes he met were Argent’s who had arched an eyebrow at the interaction. Dean tried to convey his “mind your own business” thoughts through the dead stare he sent back to the nosy hunter. Whether or not Dean got his message across, he didn’t know but Sam distracted him.

“Here it is,” Sam announced distractedly as he read. “Apparently Wayland is rumored to be an ancient smith in both Norse and Saxon legends. In Norse, he was a smith who was betrayed by his king so he slaughtered all of the king’s sons in a very disturbing fashion. In Saxon legends, he made Beowulf’s sword and was touted as quote,

‘The stout-hearted hero endured troubles/had sorrow and longing as his companions/cruelty cold as winter - he often found woe.’”

 

          _Damn, that sounds familiar,_ Dean thought cynically to himself.

            “He’s also reported to be the human form of the Greek god, Hephaestus, smith to the gods,” Sam ended dryly.

            Dean exhaled heavily, “Great. That’s just . . . so these things really could have enough . . .”

            “Power to break open Lucifer’s cage,” Sam ended bitterly. “Yea, I’d say so. And that’s not even factoring the fact that there are seven and we both know how often that number is used in the bible to symbolize perfection.”

            “Wouldn’t the smarter idea here to be get that sword as far away as possible?” Stilinski observed dryly. “I mean, they need all seven to break open the cage and they can’t do anything if one is missing so why don’t we just get rid of the one we have?”

            Dean and Sam shared a glance before Sam answered sardonically, “Because as easy as that sounds, it never is.”

            “If this is truly meant to play out here and now,” Dean continued with resignation, “the Fates, which are truly evil, vindictive bitches, by the way, won’t let us out of town with it. If we try to leave, they could just as easily throw it within reach of the cult. No, we have to take the cult out then try to destroy the swords as a set.”

            “How do you know that’s what will happen?” Argent argued tautly. “Wouldn’t it be worth it to try?”

            Dean and Sam looked at each other again before Dean played along, “Who would you trust to take it out of town? Because I’m not. There’s too many things here that you don’t have the experience to deal with and, I can tell by the look on his face, Sam isn’t, either. Plus, Sam and I are better as a team.”

            “I will,” Stilinski offered after a long moment. “I don’t have any experience with this other crap so I’m the most likely person.”

            “Except like you said, you don’t have any experience with this,” Dean argued logically. “If anything gets a clue, you will be powerless against them which means we’d have to send at least a wolf with you, leaving us one down.”

            “But if most the cult is human,” Sam hypothesized slowly, “then we wouldn’t need as many wolves, right?”

            “Possibly,” Dean allowed begrudgingly. “Let’s save that as a possibility and see what the wolves find out in the woods today. In the meantime, are there any newcomers to town who would fit the bill?”

            Stilinski arched his eyebrows and clarified, “As cult members?” Dean nodded and Stilinski shook his head slowly. “No, not that I know of.”

            “Me, either,” Argent interjected slowly.

            “Well, it was worth a shot,” Dean mumbled to himself.

            “It was a pipe dream, Dean,” Sam pointed out cynically.

            “Whatever,” Dean snapped irritably. “What about Herne?”

            “Herne appears to be exactly what Derek said he was,” Sam reported. “Pagan god of druids. Mother Earth type. No human sacrifice or evil type things so far.”

            “Well, that’s something, at least,” Dean commented wearily. He glanced around the table and noticed that the sheriff hadn’t finished his fries so he asked curiously, “You going to finish those?”

            Stilinski arched his eyebrows then, with a slight smirk, offered, “Help yourself.”

            “Awesome,” Dean crowed happily as he grabbed the fries and quickly finished

them off.

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

Dean and the sheriff left about twenty minutes later, leaving Sam and Argent researching. Dean trailed behind the sheriff in the Impala. He knew they still had about fifteen minutes to the meet and they were only ten minutes away so they had time. He leaned over to crank up the radio when his cell phone rang.

He sighed in resignation and answered shortly, “Yea?”

“Uh, Dean?” Sam started hesitantly.

“Yeah?” Dean prodded impatiently.

“Uh, you did leave the sword with us, didn’t you?” Sam verified uneasily.

“Yeah,” Dean answered impatiently. “It’s right there on the table in front of you. I sometimes worry about you, dude.”

There was a slight pause before Sam informed him tightly, “Yeah. It’s not here.”

Dean swerved to the side of the road and slammed on the brakes, causing them to screech in protest. As soon as the Impala stopped, he threw the gear shift into park, snapping into the phone, “What the hell do you mean, ‘it’s not there’? Where the hell is it?”

“That’s what we want to know,” Sam replied tautly. “It was right here on the table then . . . it wasn’t.”

“That makes no sense,” Dean argued irritably as he glanced into the rearview mirror, noticing the sheriff had circled around and pulled up behind him. A glinting light flashed for an instant as he looked in the mirror. “What the . . .” Dean started with confusion as he spun around to look in the back seat.

“What, Dean?” Sam prodded impatiently on the other end of the phone line.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean mumbled in a shocked whisper.

Stilinski leaned into Dean’s open driver’s window and commented wryly, “Guess that backup plans out, huh?”

Dean turned and glared at him before he responded to Sam’s impatient yelling, “Calm down, Sam. Mystery solved.”

“You have it?” Sam verified incredulously.

“In the backseat,” Dean clarified dryly. “Got no idea how or why but, yeah, it’s there.”

“Guess it likes you,” Stilinski observed dryly which caused him to receive another death glare from Dean.

“I’m not sure if that’s good or bad,” Sam commented uneasily.

“Know the feeling,” Dean agreed uncertainly.

“Well, you can’t go to the meet if you have that,’ Stilinski observed strategically.

“Ya think?” Dean commented sarcastically.

“What do you want to do?” Stilinski prodded curiously.

Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face before he admitted wearily, “I have no idea. No, wait. Actually I might have an idea. You go ahead to the meet. I need to check on something.” Stilinski nodded and headed back to his truck before heading out again.

“Dean?” Sam interrupted forcefully, reminding Dean that he was still on the phone. “What are you doing?”

“Told you,” Dean answered easily, shifting his baby back into gear. “Checking into something.”

“Like what?” Sam prodded doggedly. “Like headed back here to check on something? Or somewhere else?”

“Have you found anything helpful with your research?” Dean inquired curiously as he pulled back onto the highway.

“Not really,” Sam admitted reluctantly. “Neither has Argent.”

“Then it wouldn’t do me any good to go back there,” Dean reasoned logically.

“So where are you going?” Sam questioned impatiently.

“To check in with the other half and see what they have,” Dean replied reasonably. When he heard Sam try to argue, he elaborated slightly, “Plus, I want to test a theory and I need a wolf to do it.”

There was a slight pause before Sam guessed correctly, “You want to see if a wolf can touch it.”

“That’s part of it,” Dean conceded. “I can put it in a trap to keep demons and angels away from it but . . .”

“You also have to ward it against wolves and humans,” Sam finished easily.

“Exactly.”

There was a pause as he heard Sam and Argent talking then Sam came back on and asked curiously, “Why not just call Derek?”

“Because Derek is meeting with the other wolves and is needed there,” Dean reasoned logically.

Almost immediately he heard Sam’s exclaim of surprise as Argent’s voice ordered on the line, “Do. Not. Go to Peter, Dean. Don’t do it. You can’t trust him. Even his own nephew doesn’t trust him. Nobody trusts him.”

“I never said . . .” Dean started to argue.

Argent interrupted harshly, “Cut the crap. If you aren’t going to Derek, you are going to Peter because all the other wolves will be at the meet, too. You can’t trust him, Dean.”

“According to you, I can’t trust any wolf,” Dean countered cynically.

“Well, Peter is the worst of the lot, or didn’t Derek tell you how Peter killed Derek’s sister?” Argent argued aggressively. “How Derek himself even ripped Peter’s throat out in retribution for his sister’s death? The only one who could possibly handle Peter is my father and I don’t trust him enough to ask him to help.”

“What’s your point, Argent?” Dean demanded irritably.

“My point is that you don’t want that sword anywhere around Peter Hale,” Argent finished irritably.

“Well, I’m not going to Peter, but thanks for the newsfix anyway,” Dean evaded patiently.

“Then where are you going?” Argent tested with disbelief.

“To see an old friend,” Dean responded vaguely then ended the call abruptly.

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

“He hung up,” Argent snapped out irritably as he tossed the phone back to Sam who simply nodded in acknowledgement. Argent studied the younger hunter for a long moment, watching Sam shut down his laptop. Finally, he had to ask, “Does he do this sort of thing a lot?”

Sam glanced up at him while he shut his laptop and clarified curiously, “Do what? Hang up on people? Or taking off to chase down gut feelings?”

“Both,” Argent snapped irritably but frowned with confusion as he reviewed the options given then amended, “Either.”

“Yes,” Sam answered ambiguously as he stood up and stared at Argent expectantly for a moment before he prodded impatiently, “Are you coming with or am I stealing your car?”

Argent stared at him in surprise before he rolled his eyes and relented with exasperation, “I’ll drive. You know, since I know where I’m going. Give me a sec.”

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

“I need you to touch something for me,” Dean announced abruptly as he stormed into the storeroom of the Hale House basement. Derek curiously raised his eyebrows in surprised while he looked up from the book he was reading where he sat on one of the large crates residing there. Dean tried not to appreciate the wolf’s tight t-shirt that appeared to be painted on its well defined torso which flexed as the wolf stood up and set the book down on the crate behind it to give Dean his full attention.

“Oh, for the love of . . .” Peter snarked caustically behind the hunter. ‘You two have touched way too much already. Not enough brain bleach in all the cosmos.”

“No one told you to watch,” Derek growled out tightly at the obvious overstated subject.

“Of course not,” Peter allowed but elaborated. “I was merely letting you know that I had done my job. Expected you to be done with your . . . well, not you doing your . . . a hunter. Again.” Derek growled angrily and his beta blue eyes flashed warningly.

“Fine,” Peter snapped out at the animalistic ultimatum then snapped his lips shut.

Both the other men starred at him a moment, making sure that he was done, then Dean turned to finish his earlier comment when Peter mumbled in a low, injured tone, “Merely pointing out that I’ve already been subjected to enough of my nephew touching you to last me a few thousand lifetimes. Bad enough you turned him gay . . . -ish without . . .”

Derek roared and tossed Peter into the hallway stone wall while Dean watched passively, secretly wishing he could have done the same. Peter let out a pained grunt as his body fell to the stone floor beneath him. He groaned and rolled over then slowly stood and shook his head. He looked at Derek and reported grimly, “Nope. Still there. Can’t unsee.”

Derek growled again and started forward but Dean stopped him with a hand on the wolf’s chest. He snapped out, “Stop it. We both know he’s not going to stop unless he wants to and I have bigger fish to fry right now. Where’s the Darack?”

Derek motioned to the opposite corner of the room then asked curiously, “What did you need me to touch?”

Peter let out a pained groan but both men ignored him.

“My sword,” Dean answered tightly but, before anyone could say anything else, Peter interrupted sardonically, “And that is my cue. Exit stage right now. As if turning gay-ish wasn’t enough, to do it with a dead body is . . . well, to each his own, etc . . .”

Peter turned to leave, only to have his way blocked, by an actual sword. He took a cautious step back and asked hesitantly, “What is that?”

“My sword,” Dean pointed out bluntly. “Want to touch it?” Derek’s eyes shot over to Dean’s with a questioning eyebrow. Dean felt it but ignore it in exchange for watching the older wolf’s face as he slowly flipped the sword over to hand it to Peter hilt first. He could tell that Peter sensed the power within and desperately wanted that power. It drew him, called to him.

Both Dean and Derek watched carefully as Peter’s right hand slowly rose up and closed over the hilt. He had barely raised it up off of Dean’s arm when a bright white light exploded from the sword and Peter flew back into the wall once again. He hit the floor hard with another pained groan then laid there.

Derek turned back to Dean and arched a questioning eyebrow before he verified casually, “That the reaction you were looking for?”

Dean frowned thoughtfully before he shrugged but elaborated slightly, “Not exactly. Not sure what that means now. I mean, did it do that because he’s a wolf? Or because he’s . . . you know, him?”

They both glanced over to check as Peter slowly started to rise before Derek asked curiously, “Why do you have it anyway? Thought you were leaving it?”

“Did. It didn’t stay,” Dean explained very briefly.

“So it followed you?” Derek clarified uneasily. “Like on its own?”

“I guess. It also flew back to me when it blew Peter away,” Dean reported analytically. “Argent was able to touch it and hold it, though.”

Derek asked hesitantly, “You think it flew away from Sam? Because of the . . .”

Dean shook his head and interrupted impatiently, “No, because they would have reported that if it did that. No. But I wanted to see . . . if it was going to stay with me . . .”

“If a wolf could touch it or not,” Derek concluded easily. He glanced at Peter who now stood shakily and stared at them, mumbling, “Can’t unsee. Nope. Can’t . . . Adrenalin. Need . . .” Peter’s body slumped and he was once again on the floor, twitching slightly.

“Well, it shut him up, at least,” Dean observed with a slightly chagrined look.

Derek studied Peter’s prone body for a moment without concerned, knowing that Peter’s healing would take care of any trauma done. Then he turned back to Dean and stared down at the sword before he guessed easily, “You want to see if it will keep Scott away, if Scott tries to take it from you.”

“Yes,” Dean answered honestly. “I’d also like to test it against angels and demons but don’t have them available so, right now, I’m only able to check wolves.”

Derek glanced down at the sword hanging down in Dean’s hand before he sighed heavily. He thought about it and decided he’d like to know as well since apparently Dean was going to have the sword with him. He reached out toward the sword and caught Dean’s questioning eye. Derek nodded slowly and steeled himself to be blown backwards. He slowly closed his hand around the ancient sword’s hilt and carefully raised it up off of Dean’s arm.

After a long terse moment, they both let out their pent up breath then Dean remarked with disgust, “Well, that told me absolutely nothing.”

Derek nodded in agreement and extrapolated knowingly, “So if it’s going off nature, or intent, Scott himself could take the sword but might not be able to if he’s being controlled by an evil source.”

“Bottom line,” Dean summarized with disgust. “We have no guarantees so we can’t count on anything.”

“Well, this sucks,” Derek announced cynically.

“Story of my life,” Dean replied in kind. “Go wake up, Rumpelstiltskin. We need to get going.”

“Is there any way I can talk you out of going?” Derek checked without hope.

“What do you think?” Dean retorted tightly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extra long chapter. It hasn’t been flowing as well as earlier ones and I couldn’t find a good break in it. Plus, the real TW/SPN episodes airing have been distracting me, not in a good way. Too much time on the message boards.


	15. Sam's Surprise

Stilinski stared down at the pit he’d been held captive in that fateful night not too long ago. He stood on the edge of one of the many sink holes above the root cellar. He still remembered how terrifying it had been then marveled over Argent’s no nonsense explanation of the situation which was much worse than anything he’d realistically thought it was, because as a sheriff, he’d always prided himself on his logic.                                                                                                                                                

He mentally scoffed at his naivety as he turned toward the sound of vehicles approaching. He carefully made his way over to stand by the Nemeton while he waited for the teen to exit their vehicles. He glanced around once again, checking for Derek but not finding any sign of him.

When he faced the group of teens again, he noticed that, of course, his son, Stiles, was there, as well as the wolves, Lydia and Allison. He frowned slightly, “Allison, I thought you were supposed to go home and help your dad.”

“I was,” she answered easily, “but then something apparently happened and they are heading out here.”

“Figures,” Stilinski remarked with resignation.

“What’s going on, Sheriff?” Scott asked curiously.

“You know how Dean thought you were being controlled by a, God help us, magic user?” Stilinski started hesitantly. Scott nodded so Stilinski continued, nodding toward the Nemeton, “Well, evidence says this is where they are meeting.”

“They?” Stiles verified incredulously.

“Yeah,” Stilinski confirmed. “Apparently, this magic user has a cult and we suspect that they are meeting here again tonight.” The teens turned toward the Nemeton instinctively.

“So that’s the Nemeton,” Ethan observed curiously.

“Yeah, it’s different, though,” Scott answered distractedly as he approached it for closer examination.

“What’s different?” Stilinski prodded.

“The slits and that burned spot in the middle weren’t there the last time we were here,” Allison answered clinically. “It’s probably from whatever ceremony they are doing.”

“Do we know what ceremony they are doing?” Scott asked curiously.

“No, not yet,” Stilinski responded reluctantly.

“So where is the happy but completely well matched sour odd couple anyway?” Stiles prodded mockingly. “Derek showing him the town or something? Shopping for matching outfits? Picking out rings?”

“Stiles,” Stilinski cautioned firmly. “Not the time. And definitely **_NOT_** the couple, for that matter.”

Scott cocked his head slightly to the side, obviously using his wolf hearing. He answered for the sheriff, “They are coming and . . . not happy.”

Dean stormed through the tree line with Derek very close behind. Both of them had deep scowls on their faces. Dean snapped irritably, “Look, I did what you suggested. Now, get the hell off my back.”

“You only did half of what I suggested,” Derek sniped pointedly. A light breeze blew past them, causing Derek to growl and grab Dean’s arm. Dean swung around and punched the wolf automatically but Derek’s head barely moved and he forced his wolf to ignore it.

“What the hell?” Dean exclaimed impatiently.

“You didn’t even do half,” Derek hissed out irately. “Or did you forget that I can smell it?”

Dean glared at him for a moment until the full meaning was clear. His eyes widened in surprise then he glanced down and cursed irately.

“You didn’t . . .” Derek figured out with resignation. Dean gave him a “Duh” look. Derek sighed heavily and wondered redundantly, “You think he . . .”

Dean smirked briefly with amusement and commented dryly, “One can only hope. Too bad we weren’t there to see it, though.”

“Hey!” Stiles called out, interrupting them. “If you two are through with your little sour wolf-hunter lovers’ dispute, can you save the making up for when we aren’t anywhere in the vicinity?”

Dean spun around and told the sheriff pointedly, “I will shot him.”

Stilinski fought not to show any amusement over the comment until he saw the deadly glint in Dean’s eyes, which was reflected in Derek’s.

“Oh, and I guess wolfboy there will just rip my throat out,” Stiles remembered cockily, “With his teeth.”

“Yes,” Derek confirmed seriously.

In view of both of their promised violence, Stilinski reinforced firmly, “Stiles, can it.”

Argent’s suburban pulled up next to the other cars while Dean and Derek made their way over to the group, near where the sheriff was. Sam and Argent climbed out of the suburban near them. Sam called out, “Dean?”

“Sam,” Dean answered sardonically, automatically going through their standard, “Are you okay?” check without saying it aloud.

“You’re a real dick sometimes, you know that?” Sam snapped out rhetorically.

“And this is news?’ Dean rebutted sardonically. Derek chuffed slightly to the side and Dean prayed that he was the only one who heard it. A quick glance at Sam told him once again he wasn’t that lucky.

“Wow,” Stiles piped up annoyingly, “So the gay thing wasn’t new. At least we know based on hair who’s the girl in this one. No wonder you’re so butch if you take them . . .” Stiles trailed off at the gun pointed at him.

“Dean!” Sam exclaimed with shocked concern.

“One. More. Word,” Dean gritted out through clenched teeth with his gun still pointed at Stiles. He tightened his hand around the pistol’s handle and cocked it. His clenched jaw flexed spasmodically.

“Dean,” Stilinski cautioned firmly as he walked over cautiously toward the hunter. Derek glanced over at him while keeping his place next to Dean with his arms crossed. “You don’t want to do this.”

“Actually I really do,” Dean snapped back purposefully.

“Dean,” Sam cautioned patiently as he partially moved in front of Dean then stated with more emphasis. “Dean.”

“What?” Dean exploded impatiently but pointed the gun in the air. He gently released the hammer of the gun and lowered it, expounding, “He’s freakin’ annoying.” He slammed his gun back into the back of his jeans.

“He really is,” Derek agreed readily, firmly putting himself in Dean’s corner.

“Are we through playing around?” Argent commented dryly. “Because I, for one, would like to get this over with before nightfall.”

Dean glanced at Argent and told him, “Go for it. You know them better. I’m going to show Sam,” he paused then looked directly at Stiles before adding pointedly, “my brother, some of the symbols left by the cult. Maybe we can figure out more about the cult from them while y’all do your wolf thing. Sam.”

Dean motioned with his head and they both headed over to the Nemeton which Dean jumped up on, followed by Sam. Derek stealthily watched them while getting the assignments from Argent. He glanced at Argent and nodded when he was paired up with Scott on his trek. Argent assigned Stiles and Lydia the task of coordinating the hunt with an area map while Allison headed out with Issac, much to his displeasure.

Dean glanced at the teams as they dispersed and briefly caught Derek’s eye before nodding, knowing Derek would understand. Derek nodded in return and headed off into the woods after Scott. Dean returned his attention to Sam who was looking at him instead of the Nemeton’s surface.

“Something you need to tell me, Dean?” Sam asked curiously.

“What? No,” Dean evaded distractedly, wondering what Sam was wanting to know this time. Sam glanced around then stared pointedly at the scabbard hanging to Dean’s side. Dean followed Sam’s eyes and rubbed his neck nervously as he answered, “Yea, it, uh, well, it apparently doesn’t like me leaving it, you know, places.”

“Needy, huh?” Sam quipped jokingly, which was at odds with his concerned look.

“Well, you know how everything wants a little Dean,” Dean popped out automatically before grimacing over what he actually said.

Sam arched a mocking eyebrow before he agreed sarcastically, “Yeah. Sure. You just keep telling yourself that.”

Dean rolled his eyes and asked, “Have you figured out anything from this yet?”

“Besides it’s a burnt circle,” Sam responded rhetorically. “No. Did you find out how far you can be away from it?”

“Distance varies, so far,” Dean answered honestly. “As does who can touch it.”

Sam arched an eyebrow and guessed accurately, “Not Peter.”

“Nope,” Dean confirmed with smug amusement. “Blew him into a wall. It was freakin’ awesome. Stupid creeper.”

Sam cocked his head to the side and observed neutrally, “You seem to know these people really well.”

Dean froze for a split second before shrugging slightly, “Met Derek on a different hunt a while back and Argent was really good about filling me in. You heard how much he liked Peter. It really doesn’t take long for everyone to feel that way. Seriously.”

“And what about Stiles, the teenager?” Sam prodded pointedly.

“He’s just freakin’ annoying,” Dean commented irritably. “Think the kid has to snark to breath.”

“And that’s why you pointed a gun at him,” Sam continued incredulously as he stood up.

“Finally shut him up, didn’t it?” Dean argued tautly but Sam only rolled his eyes.

“And what was he staying that was so bad? That we were gay?” Sam rehashed doggedly. “We’ve gotten that ever since we started hunting again over eight years ago. Big deal.” Sam paused for a moment and studied Dean’s closed face before he hesitantly started, “Unless . . . uh, Dean . . . You would tell me . . .”

“Shut up, Sam,” Dean barked out irately. “You know better than that. If anyone here is gay, it’s you. Got that. You weren’t here last night and didn’t have hours worth of that crap spouted at you. I gave him plenty of warnings then, damn it. Now if you are finished here, there’s something else for you to look at. Come on.”

Dean led Sam to the hole above the root cellar where they could see part of the Nemeton’s root system. Once they stopped in a good spot overlooking the scene, Dean pointed down and explained, “There are some carvings on the roots down there and that’s where the parents were held as sacrifices”

“So,” Sam drawled out slowly, “I guess, one of us should go down there, huh?”

“Yep,” Dean answered shortly then shoved his hands into his front pockets.

They both stood there a moment, waiting for the other to volunteer.

Finally, amidst figurative crickets chirping, Sam offered reluctantly, “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Fine,” Dean sighed heavily as he pulled his hands out of his pockets and got ready.

Sam counted off and showed rock while Dean, once again, showed scissors. Sam smirked and consoled Dean with a gentle pat on the shoulder while Dean waved his arms in excessive frustration then placed them on his hips. Sam added the taunt, “Always with the scissors.”

“Yea, yea,” Dean dismissed impatiently and moved in front of Sam to scout out a good spot for his descent. He squatted down and peered into the opening. Sudden darkness took him completely by surprise but, in hindsight, he really should have expected it.

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

Derek stopped abruptly and ducked down at the sudden pain shooting through the back of his head. His hand immediately came up to check the abused area but, just as he suspected, it came back clean. He growled angrily at the knowledge that Dean was once again injured.

“Derek?” Scott called out several feet in front of him. Apparently Scott hadn’t noticed that Derek had stopped until Derek had growled.

Derek growled at Scott, eyes flashing, but quickly swung around and raced back to the Nemeton, ignoring Scott’s calls. He had to get back to Dean. He barely acknowledged in the back of his mind that Scott was following him. Instead, he was intently listening for the hunter’s voice, even if it was reciting that stupid spell again.

Derek broke through the trees and paused for a moment to take in the scene before him. There weren’t any obvious signs of trouble. In fact, the people who were still in the clearing, Allison, Stiles and Lydia, stared at him in shocked surprise. Of course, Argent had his gun out in an instant. But the one person he was looking for wasn’t there.

“Where’s Dean?” Derek demanded irately as he sniffed and tried to follow the hunter’s scent.

Argent frowned slightly then motioned as he answered lightly, “Over there with Sam.” But when Argent turned to look, both Sam and Dean weren’t where they were supposed to be. “What? They were just there. Looking into the root cellar.”

Derek was over there and had jumped inside before Argent had even taken a few steps in that direction. Scott was right behind him but stopped short of jumping down into the cellar. The others raced over, only to be stopped short by Scott’s order. “Don’t. We don’t need another cave-in.”

“He wasn’t here,” Derek announced tightly as he jumped up from below.

Both Scott and Derek tried to find a scent trail to follow but they only got a couple of feet before the scent disappeared. They both stopped and stared at each other for a moment before Argent prodded impatiently, “What’s the problem?”

“Dean’s scent . . .” Scott began hesitantly. “It just disappeared.”

“What the hell do you mean, ‘disappeared’? How can that happen?” Argent questioned warily.”

“Has this ever happened before?” Scott asked Derek.

Derek shook his head and elaborated shortly, “No, not this soon afterward. Never.”

“What could do it?” Stiles inquired curiously.

Derek thought for a moment before he guessed uncomfortably, “Angels?”

“Flew him out?” Argent hypothesized then nodded thoughtfully. “That would be really hard to follow by scent. Sam, too?”

Derek frowned heavily as he thought it through and wondered if that was truly the case or if there was something else was at work here.

“Please tell me you’ve stashed the blade somewhere, at least,” Argent begged dryly.

Derek huffed irritably, “We wish. Apparently, the blade is quite attached to him. It won’t stay where he puts it.”

“So he has it on him,” Argent summarized with regret.

“Unfortunately,” Derek verified tightly.

“Well, at least, it’s far from here now,” Argent replied hopefully.

“We can always hope,” Derek added sardonically.

“What blade?” Scott asked curiously.

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Drawled out a slightly sinister, feminine voice belonging to the leader of the cult as she appeared out of the shadows. A long, black hooded robe completely enclosed the moral’s form and made it appear to glide towards Sam who stood tautly, surrounded by about six like cloaked figures. Dean’s unconscious body sagged between two cloaked figures.

“The Great Winchester brothers,” she touted with continued sarcasm mixed with cockiness. “Our lord has truly blessed us. Even the seventh sword is now in our grasps. Tie them up over there.” The figure motioned to the chains dangling from the cave wall.

The others dragged Sam and the still unconscious Dean over to the shackles and locked them in. One of them reached for the sheathed sword, only to be stopped abruptly, “Do not touch that! You presume too much.”

“Sorry, mistress,” the now trembling coven member immediately apologized and backed away quickly from the sword. All of the other members swiftly separated themselves from the troublemaker, fearing reprisal.

The leader narrowed his eyes at the trembling man but knew that she needed all the members intact for the ceremony tonight. She hissed out warningly, “You are blessed that you are needed tonight. Otherwise . . . Do not tempt fate again or I will forget that I have use for you. Leave me. Now. All of you. Out!” Everyone who wasn’t chained to the wall flew out of the room.

The leader waited until everyone had filed out of the cave and then a few minutes more before she turned to Sam and greeted tightly, “Gadreel. Long time. Guess that spell even emptied out the dregs of our prison. But did you really have to pick our brightest brother’s meatsuit?”

“He let me in, Hael,” Gadreel/Sam answered in kind. “He was dying and he let me in to keep him alive.”

“He’s our brother’s vessel!” Hael insisted hotly before she calmed himself and added, “And I’m Hel here.”

“Hel? Loki’s daughter?” Gadreel clarified curiously. “Why?”

“Pagan area,” Hael answered dismissively. “They saw the signs and believe the end is at hand. I have them believing that we are preparing the way for their way to Paradise, or whatever.”

“So they are using you as you are using them,” Gadreel summarized instinctively. “But who are you raising our brother for? Bartholomew?”

Hael scoffed dismissively, “That maniacal dictator. As if. No, he is too much of a monster. Malachi is my superior.”

“I will join you, if you will have me,” Gadreel pleaded earnestly. “I brought the elder Winchester to you, as well as the sword. I can help you with the summoning and will gladly exit after our brother is back in the mix.”

Hael stared at him thoughtfully as she cocked her head to the side and allowed contemplatively, “He would forgive you, too, as you let him in when you were not supposed to but you must know that Michael will not be forgiving at all. So, it will depend on who exits first, won’t it? I guess, you could say, once again, your fate lies in Father’s hands.” She smiled widely at the irony of the situation before she swept out of the cave to prepare for the evening’s ceremony.

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

Derek intently studied the map of the area while Argent discussed their strategy with Scott. He listened carefully to their assigned places, knowing that they had determined that most of the cult was comprised of humans. Sometimes he wasn’t sure if that really mattered as much as it should. Finally, he asked on a related topic, “What are we going to do with the Darack?”

Argent blinked at him then clarified pointedly, “Don’t you think we have big issues right now?”

“That’s my point,” Derek answered tautly. “If we go ahead and take care of the corpse, we could have another wolf here in the fight, in case something does wrong.”

“Why haven’t you taken care of it already?” Stilinski wondered curiously.

“Wanted to but Dean thought it would be best for you two to verify things because he was under the impression that you didn’t trust me, you know, at all,” Derek replied sarcastically. “He seemed to think that you wouldn’t trust Peter or I to take care of it without your supervision.”

Argent stared directly at Derek who met his gaze imperviously. They held eyes for a long moment before Derek added facetiously, “He also thought you might want to double check for any other missing parts.”

“Eww, gross,” Stiles commented dryly.

A sudden flapping of wings sounded and blew the air around them then Castiel appeared next to Derek who observed irately, “You’re late. It’s been hours.”

“We need to talk,” Castiel announced emotionlessly as he touched the wolf’s shoulder and they disappeared from the group.

They landed in the woods by the Hale house where Castiel quickly let go of the wolf as he informed him briskly, “We do not have a lot of time. I was being held by another angelic sect when Dean was taken. It took me time to get out of there. Once I arrived here, I followed the trail and found something disturbing.”

“More disturbing than his possessed brother giving him over to the cult?” Derek asked facetiously, praying that he was wrong.

“Yes,” Castiel confirmed with narrowed eyes before questioning, “How did you know Sam was possessed?”

“I overheard a phone call between the two,” Derek related irritably. “Only it wasn’t Sam on the other side of the conversation even though it was definitely Sam’s voice. Plus, I’m getting really good at identifying grace.”

“Who was it?” Castiel prodded intently.

“Ezekiel is what Dean called it,” Derek continued with increasing ire. “Apparently they had made a deal. The angel, Ezekiel, was healing Sam’s body in exchange for the promise that Dean would allow Zeke into Dean’s body when Sam’s was well again.”

Castiel sighed heavily, “Of course, Dean would sell his soul again for Sam and he thinks Ezekiel is ‘good’ based on my recommendation but it’s a lie.”

“What do you mean?”

“I just found out from my captors that Ezekiel perished in the Fall and I do not recognize the angel inside of Sam which means it is very, very old,” Castiel elaborated with an increasingly frustrated countenance. “Whoever it is has made a deal with the cult leader which is Hael masquerading as Hel.”

            Derek frowned heavily in confusion and repeated for verification, “Hael is Hel? I don’t understand. Sounds just like Hell to me.”

            Castiel huffed impatiently, “Hael is the angel of kindness . . .”

“She’s not living up to it,” Derek commented facetiously.

“But,” Castiel continued pointedly, used to interruptions from Dean, “she is masquerading as Hel the pagan daughter of Loki. She has a wiccan coven doing her bidding. Some are possessed by other angels, some aren’t. The Fall wasn’t good to my brethren,” he added as an afterthought.

            “How many are angels?” Derek asked strategically.

            “Three,” Castiel related automatically. “But if I aid you in the fight, whoever is possessing Sam could easily kill him, or Dean, or both. They would also know that I have grace back and could let Metatron know. I . . . I cannot risk it. I have to set a trap for Sam back at the bunker so that we can free him.”

            “Can you get us some of those angel sword things, at least?” Derek inquired tactically, completely understanding the angel’s reservations. “If we have those, we could probably kill the angels with our speed and agility.”

            “It would be better, safer, to use the banishing sigil on them,” Castiel corrected honestly, “then overpower the humans but I can probably get the swords as well.”

            “Show me the sigil and get me the swords as back up,” Derek agreed intently. “We will try the sigil first but, just in case . . .”

            “I understand,” Castiel acknowledged then disappeared, only to reappear a few moments later, holding a cloth bag. He handed it Derek and offered solemnly, “I am truly sorry that I cannot be there but there is a bigger picture here. I have to keep it in sight.”

            “I know,” Derek answered. “Now, show me the sigil and how to use it.”

            -------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

Argent, Scott and Issac showed up at the house a few minutes after Castiel left. Derek turned from the symbol he’d been studying on the porch when he heard Argent’s SUV pull up. Argent got out of the driver’s side as the others exited through their own doors.

“What did Cas have to say?” Scott asked curiously.

“We have four angels total to deal with including the cult leader,” Derek related honestly.

“He’s going to help us, right?” Issac verified hesitantly.

“No,” Derek answered tightly. “He has a much bigger battle going on right now but he did leave us with some angel swords and a banishing sigil that will blow them out of their vessels.” He motioned to the porch as the others approached to look at it while he continued,” He advised us to use the sigil then capture the humans.”

“Then why leave the swords?” Argent asked with slightly confusion.

“In case something goes wrong with plan A, like it does most of the time,” Scott answered sardonically for Derek.

They all stared at the banishing sigil for a moment, committing it to memory, after each took a picture of it with their phones. Finally, Argent inquired rhetorically, “So who’s ready to salt and burn a Dararck?”

\-------------------------- SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

Dean groaned painfully at the hammers pounding away at his head. The movement caused chains to rattle making him pry open his eyes, despite the increased pain he knew was coming from it. He saw that he was once again chained to a wall and wondered when this had become so common place for him.

“Easy,” Sam cautioned softly beside him. Dean glanced over and saw that his brother was similarly chained. He started to say something when Sam announced in the same hushed whisper, “They’re coming.”

Dean frowned slightly but focused on the cave entrance and saw with a sinking sensation that night had fallen. The light from the torches eerily illuminated the black hooded robed figures as they progressed into the cave towards them, chanting as they ceremoniously walked in a single file line.

“Wonderful,“ Dean commented sarcastically. “Freakin’ witches.”

He started to speak to the cult members but was quickly gagged with a piece of cloth. The figures unchained him from the wall but chains remained on his feet and hands making him hobble out with the flanking robed figures surrounding him on the way. He glanced around and saw that Sam was similarly restrained, gagged and surrounded as they were lead out of the cave and into the moonlight night.

He felt the sword tap against his leg with each stride and wondered why they hadn’t taken it, considering they had apparently taken his other weapons, jacket and shirts. He had noticed the chill right off but now glanced down to see symbols painted on to his chest and rolled his eyes, not at all liking where this is going. He glanced back to check his brother. Unfortunately, Sam still had on his shirts and all that he got from the glance was a stumble and a yanking of his chains, literally.

He tried to figure out where he was but he didn’t recognize anything until they entered the clearing of the Nemeton, which he recognized immediately. He carefully searched the clearing without success. He somehow knew, like really knew, that Derek was nearby, even though he couldn’t see him.

The procession fanned out around the Nemeton in a circle, occasionally stabbing a torch in the ground as they went, until torch light and moonlight combined to give the area almost as much light as in the day time. Dean’s guards stopped him next to the leader, he assumed, while he saw Sam’s guards drag him to the middle of the Nemeton and hold him there. He growled warningly behind his gag but everyone ignored him.

The leader started reciting Latin that completely went over Dean’s head so he stared intently at the scene, focusing mainly on the leader and Sam. He grimaced at the grotesque, decaying Darack head being held aloft in the leader’s left hand. He sighed over the cliché.

As the ceremony continued, he felt warmth against his leg and glanced down. His sword was glowing and getting warmer by the chant. _This can’t be good_ , He thought to himself.

“Bring the sacrifice forward,” the leader demanded loudly in a language Dean actually knew, English, drawing Dean’s attention back to it.

He heard a scuffle in the background and a girl’s voice complain loudly, “I’m not a damn sacrifice. You’ve got the wrong girl, you gothic imbeciles.”

He groaned as he recognized Lydia’s impervious voice, wondering what the hell Derek was thinking bringing this innocent civilian into this. He noticed the leader turn to him and commanded imperviously, “Bloody the blade. Kill the sacrifice.”

He scoffed derisively through the gag, causing the leader to place her hand on his forehead and recite a spell in Latin. At first, he tried to dislodge it but then thought better of it and tried to play along when he noticed the spell seemed to have no effect on him. He stilled his movements and stared at the leader blankly.

“Much better,” she crowed with satisfaction. “Now kill her so the actual ceremony may begin.”

Dean stepped forward using small steps since the chains hadn’t been removed. He moved toward Lydia who cringed within the hands of her captors. He ignored her frantic struggles and gave no indication of recollection as he plotted his moves.

He only had one chance at this, he knew, and wished that Sam was closer so that he could shield him, too. He knew, though, that he had to rely on Ezekiel to save Sam again. There was no other choice available to him at the moment.

He pulled the glowing sword out of its sheath and tried to ignore how right its warmed handle felt in his hand. He stood directly in front of Lydia by then who was still struggling and denying what was happening to her. He inhaled a deep breath as he raised his sword and Lydia fell back. Her legs refused to support her weight anymore. She begged hysterically, “No! Please, no. Please . . .”

He swung the sword down forcefully, despite Sam’s muffled protests, and Lydia’s scream echoed throughout the woods.

\------------------ SPN --------------------------- TW -----------------------

_Only one chapter left?_

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please review and let me know what you think. 


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